Pirate's Booty
by apodiform
Summary: Come ye, come all, to hear a tale of the high seas. This here be a swashbuckling adventure with plenty of bodiceripping suss, swordfights, backstabbing and frontstabbing, and of course love. All things that make up a foine Pirating adventure. Merder
1. Chapter 1

**Come ye, come all, to hear a tale of the high seas. This here be a swash-buckling adventure with plenty of bodice-ripping suss, sword-fights, back-stabbing and front-stabbing, and of course love. All things that make up a foine Pirating adventure. This is my first stab at a fic on here, so please be kind. I have a bunch more chapters up on fanficga, so if you want me to keep posting here, I will. Please tell me what you think! **

The sun of the seven seas shines down on a lone ship. Its sails glisten like ivory against a turquoise sea, inlaid into a ship of ebony. It is made of wood, just like any other ship, but its planks have been painted black in deference to its profession. Oh, you say a ship can't have a personality? Then you're not seeing the way this one sails through the waves; pushing through the water with menacing purpose. All the sails have been let to allow for optimum speed, and a full crew scrambles like ants to keep her sailing true and straight.

Or maybe it is the lone figure at the wheel that gives it its drive and direction. He stands at the helm, legs splayed apart in deference to the unsteady nature of the meeting of wood and wave. He himself looks rooted to the spot, his two hands gripping the wheel at two and ten o'clock. Fitted boots and tight buckskin trousers meld to his ramrod straight body. The only softness in his stance, the whipping of his white lawn shirt and curly dark locks in the wind. His coat lays tossed aside on the nearest crate, as his gaze stays focused on the quarry ahead. His potent blue eyes focused and hard.

The tiniest etchings of a ship can be seen off in the distance, separated from the sea by only a few marks of the horizon. Derek doesn't have to see the shape of the sails or the tilt of the bow to know what ship it is, or even whose captaining it. He knows exactly who it is. He's been searching for just this ship, just this opportunity for five long years. For it wasn't just any ship. It was his ship. And the captain was his wife.

_Five years ago…._

"Approach from the south, but keep all guns at the ready." He calls to his first mate as they approach what appears to be a dead in the water ship. "They're flying the white flag, but it could be a trap."

"Aye, aye, Captain." His first mate calls back fastidiously before shooting down the ladder to make his orders come true.

Captain, now that has a nice ring to it. It's been a long time in coming. Ever since he was a little boy, playing on the sands of Tortuga, his dream has been to captain his own ship. And not just any ship. The swiftest and most feared of the Caribbean: the governor's own "Pirate's Bounty." Let's just say that the governor has his own special blend of humor. For everyone knew that if a pirate ever got a hold of his ship, there wouldn't be a ship that could catch them. And hence their hold would definitely be bountiful.

Except no pirates at present own the ship. It was his ship. Or at least it was going to be as soon as he accomplished his mission for the governor. A mission that would change his life in more ways than one, but on that he had been training his entire life to accomplish. He had grown up as a poor little waif of a lad, the progeny of a father left at sea long before he had left his leading strings. He has a fuzzy recollection of a warm masculine voice and kind blue eyes, but nothing more. The sea is a temperamental beast that took his father away, and their only source of income, only to blow in a plethora of men that tried to take his father's place in his mother's bed.

None ever lasted that long, the long shadow of his father placing a pall over the proceedings. As time went on, the intervals between men became shorter and the visits became more perfunctory. And he started spending more and more time away from the house. The one particular morning that changed his life stemming from his desire to imitate a 'customer's' ability to send a pebble skipping smoothly along the water's surface and to also get as far away from said 'customer' as possible.

_The first pebble he throws doesn't even make it into the water. It bounces off of a rock or two before it plunks unceremoniously into the shallow area. He picks up another one and tries again. This time it sails far enough away, but it doesn't skip. Not anywhere close. It just soars through the air and sinks below the surface. This is a lot harder than he thought it was going to be. Just how had the man shaped his hand to get it to fly so flat and close to the surface? He curls up his brow in concentration and tries to imitate the movement of the man's hand. This time the stone flies true; hopping and skipping not once, but twice._

_His mouth is wide with amazement, when he hears a low voice call out behind him, "You know, if you really want it to fly, you should try the smoother, flat ones."_

He had been so surprised by the unexpected voice behind him, that he had almost tripped and followed his stones off of the barnacle-encrusted rocks. But the man had caught him and pulled him back with a gentle smile. A smile that reminded him of his own lost father. But also a smile that he recognized as that belonging to the governor-general of the island: Governor Webber. The Governor wears the tan knee-capped pants and lawn shirt of the upper crust, but his usual elaborately-trimmed coats and pomaded wig is lacking. He is only a man taking a stroll along the community beaches of Tortuga. And he is only a little boy trying to learn the mystery of the skipping stones.

Derek smiles as he remembers the usually dignified governor scouring the beach for the perfect skipping stone. He remembers the feel of his arms encircling his to shape his arm in the perfect skipping posture. He must have stayed helping him for a good half an hour until the governor's aide came running down the beach in search of the man himself. Governor Webber had sighed the sound of the weary, his knees cracking as he tried to rise from a too-long crouched position. He had returned to his pampered mansion just as silently as he had come, but not before a formal invite was tendered to Derek to meet him at his office first thing in the morning. Derek had readily agreed, shaking his head in the affirmative, too stunned to speak. He had watched the two men walk back down the beach, stared in awe at the remaining pebble still stuck in his hand, and ran off to tell his mother what had just happened.

_He wakes up before the rest of the house stirs, throwing his knit-patched pants and thread-bare shirt on and sneaks out the door. He skips along the beach, dawdling for time. He knows that someone as important as the governor won't be up before the cock has crowed, but he was too excited to stay abed any longer. He finds a wonderful piece of driftwood as he marches up the path to the governor's back door and contents himself with rubbing away the sand and dried seaweed. He doesn't have to wait long though, for a side French door opens and the governor himself walks out with a bone-china cup of tea in his hands._

_He approaches Derek, and before Derek can say anything, comments, "You've got a beautiful piece of wood there. What do you intend to use it for?"_

"_I don't quite yet know, sir. It just seemed so pretty against the sand, it seemed a waste to leave it lying there." He answers readily, as he scrambles up from his perch._

The governor had then smiled a smile that he hadn't understood at the time, but now realizes was that of an amused and impressed man. For Derek's words had been a little too close to the governor's own thoughts at that moment to have just been providence.

He had been invited into the governor's study and set down in one of two chairs facing the governor's own massive mahogany desk. The governor had taken the other chair next to Derek, placed his tea cup on the corner of his desk, and proceeded to quiz Derek about his life. Derek told him all about the death of his father and the little cottage by the sea he shared with his mother. He had told him of his many excursions (the rock-skipping being one) to avoid the men that his mother called her 'customers'.

The governor had listened attentively, sipping his tea and injecting a few small questions and inquiries every now and then. And when he was done, there not being much to tell, the governor had very solemnly and seriously put down his tea and had asked Derek if he would like to be his errand boy. He would pay Derek a shilling a week and all Derek had to do was whatever the governor needed him to do. There would be no stealing, there would be no lies, and his appearance had to always be kept clean. How could he say no to that?

That very day he had started his new life as the governor's go-to boy. He was pretty much a glorified fetching boy that followed the governor around on his many duties around the island. When the governor came to know him, and could see that he could be trusted, he was off running errands and delivering correspondence. When the governor found out that he couldn't even read the very letters he was entrusted to deliver, the governor's own secretary was ordered to teach him how to read and write. And as tutors and learned men passed through the mansion, they were also talked into contributing to Derek's education.

He learned mathematics, astronomy, philosophy, literature, and any number of languages. At the ripe old age of 16, he assumed the duties of his mentor's secretary when the former's terms of service ended and he returned to his beloved England. He traveled from island to island with the governor, dictating and recording for posterity the actions of the great man. He became his right-hand man: preparing documents for signature, copying out declarations to be read at every posting inn, and anything else the governor might need done.

But always he was the same man that had taken the time from his important duties to take a lone boy under his wing. The skipping stone lessons turned into lessons on law and the handing out of justice. The drinking of tea and biscuits turning into the shared brandy or scotch at the end of a long work day. If it had been a really long day, they might take up a fencing bout or two. He always enjoyed the days that they were out the sea the best though. He enjoyed using his mind on the many legal questions and could argue a philosophical point with the best of them, but his happiest times were spent with the wind at his back and the wide open sea spread out before him. And the governor knew it. But he had still been caught quite unawares when the governor had called him into his office not a few months before and offered him his dream.

_Derek had just returned from a trip to the nearest island, dispensing justice in the name of the governor. Everyone in the Tortuga islands knew that Derek held the entire trust of the governor, and he was generally as fair as the governor himself. And as the years wore on, and the governor's joints became stiffer with use, it had only seemed natural for Derek to take over some of the more strenuous activities. The few that had tried to take advantage of his youth and supposed inexperience had soon found themselves either bested with his skill with the sword or the word. Either one was deadly. And if word got back to the governor that someone had messed with his protégé, they'd better prey they could find a quick vessel taking them out of the governor's reach. Or all hell was going to pay._

_There hadn't been any such incidents in many years, but he thought something must be bothering Uncle Richard when he walks up the back-door of the mansion to find him deeply disturbed by some missive. He jingles around the office, pouring himself a scotch, noting the deep frown and vast deflation of his friend's shoulders._

_He carefully sits down in one of the rich mahogany chairs, flipping out his jacket behind him, and waits for Richard to notice him._

"_Oh Derek, I didn't see you come in." Richard says with a start as he finally notices him sitting directly across from him. "How's the lesser Tortuga doing?"_

"_Dragging us down into the sea, as usual." Derek answers with a cool sip of his drink. Lesser Tortuga being the lesser of the two islands in all things. There was a well-known joke among the inhabitants of the big island that without the governor's iron will, the lesser would probably fall back into ruin and slide back into the sea. The governor doesn't laugh the way he usually does though, the sides of his mouth barely turning up in a smile._

"_We've known each other for a long time, Richard. I'd appreciate it if you would tell me what has you frowning so hard. You've crinkled the side of your missive." Derek says in a brisk but friendly manner._

_Richard immediately releases the paper from his hands and places the long piece of paper down on the desk. Derek looks over to see a very official looking sign at the bottom, but he doesn't recognize the seal. Richard gets up and retrieves his own tumbler of scotch, but sits back down in his chair with a thump. _

"_They're forcing me to retire, Derek." Richard tells him and then lets out a strong sigh._

_Derek had known this day was going to come, but he had no idea it was going to come this soon. The governor was old, but he wasn't that old. There must be something else going on. _

"_Why now?" He asks, their long acquaintance making him not need to elaborate._

"_I refused to give my daughter away in marriage to some Burke character. He's enacted his revenge by talking the King into rewarding my many years of loyal service with an early retirement." Richard tells him with a touch of irony._

_Derek thinks about this for a second, and then asks sagely, "And just who would be the next governor?"_

_He knew it couldn't be him. A governorship was made by royal appointment only. He could wait until the new governor arrived and apply for his position all over again. Or he would have to leave his home in search of another position._

"_Guess." Richard remarks._

"_Ah, I see. The vision comes clear. He first tried to become the governor by being the current governor's son-in-law. That didn't work, so he's called for your head." Derek says with no small amount of distaste. "And what's to happen to your daughter?"_

"_Well, that's where you come in." Richard says with no small amount of uncomfortableness. "The bug has already been planted in the King's ear, so I can't stop the retirement. But I can stop the good-for-nothing from taking over my island. Or becoming my son-in-law."_

_Derek only raises his eyebrows as an indication for Richard to elaborate. "If you marry my daughter, you would be killing two birds with one stone. Addison wouldn't have to marry that scoundrel and I could recommend you to the king as the next governor. I'll even throw in 'Pirate's Bounty' as a dowry."_


	2. Chapter 2

He is only a day out of Tortuga when he spots the lone ship flying the white flag of peace. They had spotted the ship an hour before and would have sailed right by, if not for the clearly placed call for help. As they had gotten closer, they could definitely tell that something was wrong with the ship: all of the sails are gone. He can see the bones of a much older but beautifully dark ship, but without the sails it is useless. The bare bones of the ship lays prostrate before the sea, its spindly masts resembling nothing more than a plucked chicken. Why would someone steal a ship's sails? Or why would someone remove all of their rigging to lure a ship within reach? All very good questions that he intends to find the answer to.

They approach from the south, coming up from behind the ship in case the white flag is a trap. It wouldn't do to be broadsided on his first real trip out as Captain.

"Only pull in the sails half-way in case we have to leave in a hurry. Have the remaining crew ready to board." He tells his first mate as he goes running down the stairs to the main deck and into his cabin.

He grabs his sword from out of his desk and slides it into its scabbard. His pair of dueling pistols fall promptly into their holders. And with a cool pat to the knife in his boot, he is ready to go. This may be his first go as captain of a ship, but he's been in plenty of fights before. And it wouldn't be the first time someone had flown a white flag only to sneak an attack.

He comes back on deck to see them almost on top of the ship. His men lay gathered on the right side, half carrying grappling hooks and the other half holding their weapons out in preparation for battle. But as they come in broadside, they are met with an eerie site: an empty ship. It could just mean all of the men are down below, waiting to surprise them, but somehow he doesn't think so. With all of the sails gone, it is also apparent that all of the rigging and supplies are gone too. It is like someone has come by and picked clean anything that wasn't tied down.

The grappling hooks go sailing into the air, creating a pattern of thunks as they attach to the other ship. His men work silently to pull the ships closer, nervously eyeing the empty ship. If it wasn't for the grunts of the sailors as they pulled in their rope, and the fact that he could see them, he might as well be on an empty ship too. They are all nervous and on guard, talking kept to a minimum.

The two ships finally meet with a clunk and he joins his men in jumping over the railing to the other's fore deck. He signals to his men to spread out, and the men scrabble over top part of the ship for any sign of life. They quickly ascertain that no one is above deck and come back to the fore deck.

"Mooney, you take your group and go down from the fore." He tells his first mate. "The rest, follow me."

His first mate nods grimly and leads his group to the loading dock at the front of the ship. They'll remove the netting and enter the hold through the front. He leads his men to the stairs leading below decks, when they pass the cabin's quarters. For some reason, he stops. Not a sound emanates from behind the closed wooden door, but a strong tingling sense rises on the back of his neck.

"Tyler, take the rest of the men down. I'll be there in a second." He tells the second mate.

The tall former slave, rescued and freed by Derek on a long-ago trip to lesser Tortuga, gives him a questioning look but quickly leaves to do his bidding. He doesn't know why he wants to check out the Captain's quarters alone, but he does. If there was a room full of men in there, they would have heard it by now. Captain's quarters on ships this size are only made to fit a half dozen full grown men; maybe a dozen crunched into every available corner.

He takes one of pistols out of its scabbard and places his other hand on the door. He pauses to listen for any signs of life, but doesn't hear any. He opens the door slowly, careful to search the room as the light slowly illuminates the cabin. There seems to be more signs of life here. The dark wood of the rest of the ship has been accented by blood red walls. Middle Eastern beddings and décor spruce up a decidedly dank Captain's desk and bedding. The two large pieces of furniture don't leave much room for anything else except for the two or three chests lining the walls. He is about to open the door fully, when he hears the click of a pistol next to his left ear. He turns his head to find himself face to face with the barrel of a pistol and a pair of the most beautiful green eyes he has ever seen.

Her hair is long and luscious with waves that settle in rivulets down her back. It's obvious that she hasn't had a bath in quite some time, but her hair still shines with sun streaks and her face posseses a healthy glow. In fact, she is much more tanned than what he would expect a lady to be, but she is definitely a lady. Her hair may be hastily tied back from her face with a ribbon, with tiny wisps of hair falling free, but her gold satin and lace-beribboned dress is expensive, and she carries herself with pride and a direct stare that only the upper crust possess.

"Who are you?" She asks in a low voice that sends tingles down his back.

He can't let a pretty face and a well-formed chest distract him though (don't think a pistol to the head kept him from checking out her assets). In the silence of the room, he lets her hear the cock of his own pistol that has been aimed at her stomach this whole time. Her eyes go wide, so he has a chance to ask instead, "Who are you?"

Her eyes narrow and without moving the pistol, she says, "I asked you first."

He sighs with an amused smile and draws back a little. Still keeping his pistol locked and ready to fire, he offers her a small bow and says, "Captain Derek Shepherd at your service."

Unexpectedly, she falls back onto a chair he didn't see behind her, and says with a sigh of relief, "Thank god."

"You were expecting someone else?" He asks in confusion as he takes a better look around the room. The ship is obviously old, but everything not tied down is fairly new. The bedding still has a barely used look to it and the gossamer fabric of the curtains and bed-netting is still whole and bares no ratty edges. Even the candelabras and accoutrements (beeswax candles, not tallow, and rolled parchment to name a few) shows that whoever lives here has more than a few pennies to their name.

"The king of England." She says with a roll to her eyes. "No, I thought the pirates had come back, you dolt."

"Do I look like a pirate?" He asks, a little offended. He may have grown up in the Caribbean, but he has always been a man of the law. Thievery and lawlessness have never appealed to his sense of justice.

She gives him a long look, raking his body with her eyes. His body wants to stand up straighter and chest wants to puff out, but he keeps himself level and non-chalant. "I guess not." She answers with a little quirk of her lips.

While keeping her in his side vision, he walks over to her desk and sees an open parchment, like she had been interrupted in writing a letter. Large, feminine loops make their way across the page, but it is too far away to make out. "You didn't answer my question." He asks as he turns around to casually sit on the edge of the desk. It gives him a good view of her and the door, but he's far enough away that he won't be distracted.

"And which question was that?" She asks with another quirk of her lips. She's playing with him. She knows what question he asked. He can see it in the amused way her eyes sparkle at him. Just why is she playing with him? A normal lady would be quaking in her boots at having been ransacked by pirates and left for dead. There's more to this story than meets the eye.

"Ah, I've been remiss." She says as she stands and drops a small curtsy. His eyes are immediately attracted to the elevated mounds of her breasts as they dip before him, but he averts his eyes before she can rise. "Lady Meredith Grey."

He can't resist pushing himself off of the desk and taking her hand in his. She seems a little startled at his close proximity, but she doesn't fall back when he places a small kiss on the top of her hand. He looks up when he does it, to see her staring at the placement of his lips on her skin. He can feel himself making a wicked grin, as he rises and says, "Charmed, I'm sure."

This only seems to inflame her though, and she snatches her hand back to glare at him. She can't say anything because it was everything that is proper. She still manages to cross her arms huffily (pushing her delectable breasts up even more he might add), and demands, "So are you going to help me or not?"

"Help you with what?" He asks, pretending all ignorance.

"Help me get off this damn ship. I've been stranded here for days without a proper bath or a decent thing to eat and all you seem to want to do is ogle me." She replies huffily, unclenching her arms when she realizes where his vision has strayed.

He guesses she does have a point, but for some reason he is just having too much fun at the moment to let this interlude end. He isn't being too gentlemanly, but she certainly isn't acting like a lady either.

He straightens up in his stance, unclicking the barrel of his pistol to put it in his holder, and offers, "I'll help you out any way I can if you'll just do one thing for me."

"And just what would that be?" She asks with no small amount of suspicion.

"Kiss me."

* * *

_Suggested Soundtrack is 'Conquest' by the White Stripes. _

_**He was out to make a conquest **_

_**Didn't care what harm was done **_

_**Just as long as he won **_

_**The prize**_

Derek stands before the free-standing oval mirror in his cabin fastening the last few buttons on his black and gold-trimmed jacket. For some reason, he feels a little naughty tonight. This particular jacket is fitted tighter than the normal jackets of the day. The tight fit accents his sword-built shoulders, drawing the eye along his shoulders and down his biceps to the gold-buttoned cap sleeves. His under-vest and pants are black too with the only addition of color being the gold lining along the outer jacket and the buttons on his under-vest and sleeves. Bits of white linen at the sleeves and neck, plus white tights, might make a lesser man seem feminine, but on him it just gives a little bit of accent to the devastating picture.

Maybe it was the remembrance of the almost-kiss he had shared with Lady Grey, but he's taken extra-special attention with his appearance tonight. They're sailing through the night, having long ago transferred all of her belongings and welcomed her aboard. Luck would have it that she was sailing for England too. He hadn't heard the full particulars of what had happened to her crew, but he would remedy that tonight at dinner. He wonders if she'll wear the same gold dress that she was wearing earlier. The green of her eyes had set off the gown almost like a pair of emerald adornments. He can still see the way her pupils had dilated when he had asked her to kiss him earlier.

_**She was just another conquest **_

_**Didn't care whose heart was broke **_

_**Love to him was a joke **_

_**'til he looked into her eyes**_

"_I can't." She says breathily, as his face comes within inches of her. Her eyes say otherwise though, open wide and flickering back and forth between his eyes and his lips._

"_Why not?" He says in an almost whisper, his body so close to hers that he can feel the fabric of her dress resting against his knees._

"_I'm going to be married." She answers with a gasp as he moves even closer. So close in fact, that he can feel the heat of her breath on his face and the rub of her nipples against his chest. _

_She licks her lips, and he dives in to kiss her, saying only "So am I." _

_He can practically feel the nectar of her sweet lips, when he is interrupted by Tyler's voice saying, "Captain, we've got no one on board."_

He had pulled away instantly, rendering Tyler's statement immediately untrue when he steps aside to reveal Lady Grey. To say that Tyler was surprised that a lone lady would be residing on a ship by herself would be an understatement. Was Tyler surprised to see his Captain trying to steal a kiss from a pretty girl? He doubted it. Let's just say he's never been lacking of female company. He makes one more adjustment to his neck-cloth and knows he's ready for his dinner with Lady Meredith Grey. And as he smiles into the mirror, he thinks maybe an over-due kiss or two too.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**And then in the strange way things happen **_

_**The roles were reversed from that day **_

_**The hunted became the huntress **_

_**The hunter became the prey**_

After having sponged herself clean, Meredith drops her shift back over her head. There hadn't been time to heat water for an entire bath before dinner, but she had managed enough to wash her hair and get the dirt off. She had wanted to make it as believable as possible. Too bad it had to turn into her not looking as well as she had wanted to on meeting him. The gold dress should have done the trick though. They had talked about only leaving her there for a day or two, but it had finally been decided that they would have to give a couple of days leeway. That way it would look like the pirates were long gone, and there wouldn't be any use in looking for them.

She puts her right leg up on the nearest stool, pulling her ivory garters up her leg with exacting care. These things were expensive, and she doesn't want to ruin them on their first turn out. The other leg quickly follows and she revels in the feel of cold silk on her legs. She quickly grabs the matching ivory under-skirt, stepping into it and pulling it up over her shift. It's a good thing she knew how to dress herself, or she would be in a heap load of trouble right now. The corset comes next, already tightened as much as it will go, so that she only has to tighten the strings a small amount to give her the small-waisted look of the day. Not that she doesn't already have a small waist, it's just somehow small waists and high breasts are what carry the day. Derek sure seemed to appreciate them.

She looks at herself in the small half-mirror positioned on the nearest vanity, thankful for thoughtfulness that Derek had displayed in outfitting the cabin for his future bride. It wasn't quite to her tastes, but the ivory, gold, and blue bedroom was quite pleasing to the eye. A rather large bed for a ship, perhaps even queen size, was set up along the bow with the vanity she was now standing in front of the right wall and a quite nice writing escritoire on the other side of the room. Too bad her sister wouldn't get to appreciate it. Now should she take this cabin or the more masculine captain's quarters? It would be larger, but this room is probably prettier. Decisions, decisions.

She pulls the remaining piece of clothing, an elaborately decorated ivory cotton evening dress, over her head. It probably wouldn't do in the dazzling ballrooms of London, satins and silks being the preferred apparel there, but she kind of liked it. She pulls the long skirt down over her under-skirt, twisting a little to get the fabric to float around her legs. The long sleeves and the lace at her wrists make her feel almost like a real lady. The front ruffles and ribbons lend the dress an almost whimsical design that was definitely not her. She really should do something about her hair, but she decides to leave is free and flowing. If not for the hair, she could be going to her own wedding. In fact, she was. She had told him she was going to be married. But she hadn't told him it was going to be to him. She puts the finishing touches on her hair and walks out to meet her fate.

_**Now you know who made the conquest **_

_**She, with all her female guile**_

_**Led him helpless down the aisle **_

_**She had finally made a conquest**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Recommended Soundtrack: 'Davy Jones' off of the Pirate's of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest soundtrack_

Meredith stares around at Derek's cabin as she waits for him to approach her. Yes, his cabin is definitely bigger than hers. She can't even see the back of the ship from where she is. She can see his bed through a partially open door directly across from her, but the dull lighting of the room only lets her see darkness and shadows. Derek stands lighting the remaining unlit lamp in the room, a decorative, but large, middle-eastern kind that hangs over his desk. Everything else is wood: the large mahogany desk that he is standing in front of along the left wall, bookshelves and pigeon-holes lined all along the wall behind it, and a large table set up for their dinner on the right.

Every spare lamp and candle is lit within the ante-room, giving the room a semi-darkness that should help tremendously with her objective.

"Lady Grey, you are looking very…virginal this evening." He says as he finishes lighting the lamp and approaches to take her hand.

"Yes, well, I am going to be married." She replies haughtily, barely allowing him to touch her hand with his lips before she abruptly tears it away.

"Ah, yes, you mentioned that earlier." He says, as he holds out her chair for her.

She stiffens in her chair as she recalls exactly what they were doing when she had said that. Naughty, naughty man. She sends him a dampening glare that only seems to make him smile. Definitely a naughty man. Well, that could certainly work in her favor.

Her voice doesn't reflect anything untoward though, when she says toward the table, "Everything looks lovely. Do you usually dine in such splendor?"

"No, I'm sorry to say that I've put Private Karev to a lot of trouble. Usually I just eat at my desk." Derek replies in a genial fashion as he takes his own seat.

Meredith smiles warmly up at Private Karev, who is waiting on the side to serve them. Neither lets on that they know each other. Private Karev, or Alex, is actually one of her best friends. He's been with her since that fateful day that Governor Webber turned her away. She can't bring herself to call the man father. She is just as much his daughter as Addison. She vowed long ago day that if he wouldn't give her her rights as his daughter, she was going to have to take it for herself. And Alex was here to help her with that.

"Thank you, Private Karev. Your efforts are duly appreciated." She remarks warmly, but politely. Alex, in his clean but bland cabin boy outfit, only bows serviley. If Derek had been able to see behind him, he would have seen the devilish twinkle in Alex's eyes at her double entendre.

"Well, what about my efforts? Aren't they duly appreciated also?" Derek says as he leans his face against the palm of his hand and stares at her suggestively.

Alex starts to pour the wine between them, and she catches him almost smirking. She would smirk too if she didn't find the smile of the man across from her so exhilarating. She can't help but notice the way the black of his coat blends in perfectly with the color of his hair and the way the candle-light flickers over his features. His eyes are the color of the sea before a turbulent storm. The blue of the water mixing with the grey of the storm clouds to create a calming coolness. Except that she doesn't feel very cool right now. She feels the exact opposite, in fact.

She shakes herself though to utter, "Oh, so you put this entire dinner together yourself?"

"No. I was talking about rescuing you from your abandoned ship." He says with a little more serious frown to his face. Alex throws the napkins across their laps while they talk and starts to serve the first soup course.

Hm, he seems a little suspicious. He may have some brains after all. Too bad she couldn't wait to find out. "Ah yes, and I haven't had the chance to thank you properly."

"I told you how you could thank me." He says with a suggestive wink as he lifts his spoon to his mouth.

She watches Alex roll his eyes behind Derek's head, and she has to stifle a laugh. She takes a sip of her own soup to keep her eyes from giving her away, but not before watching Alex drop the laudanum into the remaining wine. He comes back to fill the wine glasses and take away the soup plates, but she won't touch the wine from now on. Things were going exactly to plan.

"And I think you remember what I told you after that." She responds dampeningly.

"Ah, yes, the afore-mentioned fiancé that you were traveling to when your ship got waylaid." He says a little airily. "You still haven't told me the particulars of your travail. How exactly were you able to escape the fate that the rest of your crew suffered?"

Ah, so he really is suspicious. One point for him. Too bad she was holding all of the cards. "The Captain was nice enough to stow me and my belongings in the secret compartment he had under the floor. He said he didn't want to inflict the life of a pirate wench on such a gently bred lady as myself." She lies gamely, conveying the well-thought out story that they had concocted.

"It's more likely that they would have ransomed you back to your family or sold you into slavery, whichever netted the most profit." Derek says, his eye-lids twitching a little bit in tiredness. "Pirates being mostly a mercenary bunch."

Shows how much he knows. Most pirates she knew practiced their trade because they had no other choice. Just like her. After she had left her mother's house at 18, and been denied by her father, she had been forced to pick an acting profession. Without a dowry and connections, she couldn't make a good marriage. But her upbringing as a lady of quality left her without the skills of sewing, laundering, or brew-making. If it hadn't been for that fateful meeting in Joe's tavern so long ago, she might even now be a member of the world's oldest profession.

_She walks into the nearest tavern, her dress ratty and disheveled from her long trip from Jamaica. Why hadn't she thought to bring more than one set of clothes with her? Because she hadn't thought. She was so sure that once her father knew who she was that he would take her right in. The man that she had always thought was her father, Thatcher Grey, had always talked about him in such glowing terms. How he had done such wonderful things for the Caribbean, dispensing justice in an even-handed manner that had allowed for peace and prosperity to reign these dozen odd years or so. Well, until he had found out about the Governor and her mother, that is._

_But he hadn't taken her in. He had denied that any such relationship even existed. And now she was stuck with nowhere else to go. She had no money to make it back to her mother's house, even if she had wanted to, and her stomach was starting to make ever increasing demands on her to put something in it. She knew it probably wasn't safe to go into a public tavern, but the smells emitting from it and the warmth she could detect inside beckoned her._

_She walks under a low door with the name 'Joe's Tavern' inscribed on a hasty sign, and immediately feels welcome. A roaring fire swells in the grate. The place is filled with people. Mostly men taking a refreshing pint or two after work, but there is a couple of woman mixed in with one particular group at the establishments largest table. They must have had more than a pint or two, because they're faces are rosy with drink and they are laughing up a storm. How she wished she had something that gleeful in her life to be happy about._

_A large nice-looking man stands behind the counter talking up a customer. He looks like he might be willing to give someone down on their like a bite to eat, so she walks up to the bar. Smiling at him, she waits for him to approach._

"_What may I do for you, little lady? I haven't seen you in here before." He says kindly, placing his two hands on the counter in an inviting manner._

"_Um…well, yes…" She says as she's wringing her hands. "I saw your light from the square. I'm new to town. I just got off the boat from Jamaica this morning…." The next part though she lowers her voice to a whisper, leaning close to says, "And I seem to be short of money. I won't take charity. I can work in the kitchen or clean up for you…"_

_The nice man's eyes fill with pity and she's pretty sure he's about to agree, when an Oriental looking women comes up from behind her and says, "Oh, you don't want to go in that kitchen. We've got plenty of food. Why don't you join us?" _

_Meredith doesn't want to take any charity, but she can feel her mouth already watering. The last she had to eat was the meager ship fare from last night. She must look like she's going to refuse though, because the woman adds on, "Come on, no skin off our back. We're celebrating!"_

"_You don't mind?" She asks, looking back and forth between the woman and the bartender._

"_The more the merrier! It's not our money anyway. Right, Joe?" She says with a wink at the bartender. "Four more pints and one for our friend here."_

_Joe quickly acquiesces. "You know I said you had to be out of here by morning, right? I don't want anyone associating my bar with you guys." He says as he pours the ale into pint glasses._

"_No problem, Joe." The woman agrees, handing two of the pints to Meredith and handling three on her own. "Joe's a real sweetheart. He lets us hide out and fortify ourselves before we have to jump ship for a while."_

"_Jump ship?" She asks, knowing that something is off about this entire situation, but she can't figure out what. Firstly, the woman in front of her is wearing breeches. Her mother would have shot her before she let herself go out like that. In fact, her outfit is like that of a man's. The only thing letting you know that it is a woman, her shining black hair flowing down her back and the curvy way she fills out the masculine attire._

"_Flee the scene of the crime. Head off-land. That sort of thing, you know?" The woman tries to explain, but Meredith still doesn't get it._

"_Oh, okay." She says just to agree._

_They quickly approach the table though, and the first thing she hears is, "What took you so long, Yang? I was getting parched over here…" before he spots her behind the woman and whistles. "Look what the cat dragged in! Why don't you come over and sit on my lap, honey."_

_The woman apparently called Yang looks like she wants to smack him upside the head, but her hands are full. So the blonde woman sitting beside him does it for her. "That is disgusting, Alex. Can't you see the poor girl's been through enough?" The blonde says to the man who propositioned her. _

"_Hey, weren't you at the Governor's house today?" The man on the blonde women's left asks. She is surprised to discover that the man is wearing the Governor's livery. That must mean that he works there. Come to think of it, the blonde woman seems to be wearing the uniform that the Governor's maids wear. This is strange. Shouldn't they be at work now? What were they doing in a tavern when they should be either cleaning or enjoying their few hours of rest?_

"_Uh, yes I was." She says as she decides to take a seat next to the nice man. He seems much nicer than the man who had asked her to sit on his lap. "I'd rather not talk about it though."_

"_Oh, that bad, is it?" Alex asks with more of a smirk than any measure of pity._

_This time Yang does manage to smack him. Hard._

"_Owe. What was that for?" He asks as he rubs the offended part of his head._

"_Cause you're being an asshole, that's why. This woman's dress is ripped and torn, she obviously hasn't had a good bath in weeks, and you're over here being mister hoity toity. Grow some manners, or your shares going toward the Christina Yang getting laid fund." She says to Alex, passing out the pints and pushing a tin of what looks like a meat pie toward her._

"_It's Meredith." Meredith says under her breath as she suppresses an urge just to pick up the remaining amount of pie and stuff it in her mouth in one bite._

"_Excuse me, what did you say?" Alex says a little testily._

"_My name's Meredith. She said 'this woman'. My name's Meredith." She says with a little more forcefulness than she has felt all day. There's just something about these people that makes her feel like she can be herself. They're obviously bickering with each other, but not in a bad way. They seem to be friends more than anything. And they did invite her over here._

"_Ha ha, none of us have any manners." The blonde woman answers with a snort. "I'm Izzie. This is George." She says, pointing toward the nice man in livery. "That bitch over there is Yang and doofus over here is Alex. And we don't bite."_

_Meredith looks around the table at her new companions and feels the most relaxed she's felt in weeks. "So you guys work at the Governor's house?" She asks, trying to make conversation._

_The entire table starts laughing. "What? What did I say?" She says with laughing bewilderment._

"_Didn't Joe tell ya? That's what we're celebratin'!" Yang says with a lift of her pint. "To the Governor!" _

_The rest of the table lifts their pints to the sky and repeats the chant. "To the Governor!"_

It turns out they were a band of thieves that specialized in getting themselves hired as staff and absconding with the most valuable things that they could carry. The rest of the staff would notice they were gone in the morning, but by then they would be long gone and on to the next island. They always switched around their roles and never tried to visit the same place twice, but they had a soft spot for the pints at Joe's and the wealth to be had on Tortuga.

That first night she had joined in drinking with them and related her tale. She told them about the last great fight she had had with her mother when she had finally confronted her about the truth. She told them about the many weeks it had taken her to find a ship that would take her to Tortuga. And she told them about the refusal of the Governor to even acknowledge the truth of her existence. She doesn't know why she had told complete strangers the entire sordid tale. But they hadn't laughed. They had just listened in maudlin respect as she had related everything to them. And then they had done the unexpected: asked her to join them.

She doesn't remember who offered, but it didn't matter. They all were in on the idea. So when they left the island the next morning, Meredith had gone with them. And over the next many years, she played many parts: from the lowliest servant to a high-born lady. All in the name of making their living. But always in the back of her mind was the burning anger at her father. Just because he wouldn't acknowledge her, didn't mean she didn't exist. And then one day she had learned that the Governor's daughter was going to be married. And she saw her opportunity.

Which leads her back to the present: having dinner with her sister's fiancé on what is supposed to be her sister's ship.

"I wouldn't know." She says in response to his comment about pirates being mainly mercenary.

"Well, your finance' will be happy at any rate. You didn't mention his name. Would I know him?" He asks with a suspicious gleam to his eye. An eye that seems to be drooping a little from the potent effects of the laudanum.

"You might. He's a close friend of my fathers." Meredith answers glibly, not able to resist the snide comment.

Alex is coming over to place the main courses in front of them, but he almost chokes when he hears her answer. He covers it up well with a coughing fit though. Derek turns to look at his suddenly consumptive cabin boy, but she can see the slowness of his limbs reacting. His eyes seem to have glazed over too. It seems to be working much faster than she thought.

"I don't think I've met your father." Derek remarks, as Alex's coughing fit seems to have subsided.

"Oh yes you have." She answers tritely, as Derek's eyes roll back in his head. But before he can descend into a drugged stupor, she is quick to add, "You're about to be his son-in-law."


	4. Chapter 4

**Likee? No likee? I have a bunch more chapters if people are interested. I really value feedback and would love to hear from you! I have to warn you that the next update does contain adult material.**

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_Recommended Soundtrack: 'Hallelujah' by Jeff Buckley_

_**I heard there was a secret chord**_

_**that David played and it pleased the lord**_

_**but you don't really care for music do ya**_

_**Well it goes like this the fourth the fifth**_

_**the minor fall and the major lift**_

_**the baffled king composing hallelujah**_

_**Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah**_

Derek awakes from a deep slumber lethargic and slow in his mind. He picks his hand up to look at his fingers, to discover that he is in a bed. His bed. Now how did he get here? He remembers a dimly lit room with candles blazing all around. Lights glinting off of dinner silverware and the green of someone's eyes. He turns to discover someone laying next him in bed with their body facing away. Her honey blonde hair spreads out over the pillows, playing over the planes of her back. The same sheets and blankets that are covering him have slid low over her back and are covering up any other part of her anatomy. That's a shame.

He's not wearing any clothes. He can feel the brush of the sheets against his naked body. How did that happen? Is she naked too? He lifts up the covers. Yep. Her creamy white skin lays across his sheets as naked as the day she was born. How did she end up here? How did THEY end up here? He remembers wanting kisses. Had kisses led to more than kisses? But that doesn't make any sense. Why couldn't he remember the kisses? He remembers that there was some reason why he couldn't kiss her. But what was it? He tries to rack his brain, but can only come up with fractured visions of white dresses, a dinner, and something about being someone's son-in-law.

He doesn't hear any other sounds in the rest of the ship, so it must still be rather early. That means he must still have a couple of hours before he has to be up and about. Normally, he would just go up and enjoy his coffee on deck, watching the ship glide through the water in the early morning light. But this morning he has a beautiful naked woman in his bed. Suddenly, it doesn't matter how this woman ended up in his bed only that she's there. He slides over to be closer to her and slides her hair off of her back. Faint whiffs of orange and vanilla pass under his nose as he lets his hand run through the weighty luxurious mass.

Meredith lies awake, staying completely still so as to not let him know she's awake. She had gotten Alex's help hours ago peeling off all of his clothes, but he wasn't supposed to be awake yet. It wasn't even light out. They've probably got hours yet before the rest of her crew shows up. What should she do? She has to be naked and lying in bed for when her "fake" father shows up. Otherwise, the plan might not work. Maybe if she just lies here and pretends to sleep he'll give up and go back to bed. But his hand continues to run through her hair, creating sparks of tingliness all over her scalp. Fingertips brush against her back when his hand leaves the end of her hair and swipes down farther.

He knows she's awake. He can hear it in her breathing and the slight way she jumps when his hand makes contact with her bare skin. He reaches forward to splay his hand along her breast, pulling himself up against her length and brushing her hair aside. She gasps when he puts his lips against the back of her neck and lets his mouth roam against the sensitive spot. With one flip, she's turned her body around and green meets blue, chest meets chest, and skin meets skin. He is captivated by the deep need that he sees in those emerald orbs, so he lowers his lips to fill her up the only way he knows how.

_****__**Well your faith was strong but you needed proof**_

_****__**you saw her bathing on the roof**_

_****__**her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you**_

_****__**she tied you to a kitchen chair**_

_****__**she broke your throne and she cut your hair**_

_****__**and from your lips she drew the hallelujah.**_

_****__**Hallelujah,hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah**_

* * *

_****__****__****__**  
Baby I've been here before**_

_****__****__****__**I've seen this room and I've walked this floor**_

_****__****__****__**You know, I used to live alone before I knew you**_

_****__****__****__**And I've seen your flag on the marble arch**_

_****__****__****__**and love is not a victory march**_

_****__****__****__**it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah**_

_****__****__****__**Hallelujah,hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah**_

Meredith lifts her lips to his, tingling where their bodies meet below. Just what is she doing? This is the man that had everything that she should have had these past ten years but didn't. Everyone knew the story of the Governor coming upon a boy skipping stones and taking him into his heart. Had the Governor known who that little boy was when he had asked him back to the mansion? He must have figured it out at some point. And what better way to make up for hanging the boys father as a pirate than to bring the boy up as his own? God, the guilt of hanging the wrong man must have eaten Webber up inside.

She doubted Derek knew any of this, as he was on his way to marry the man's daughter. Or was, that is. She might even feel sorry for him, but she couldn't quite make herself do it. Webber could take in the boy of the friend he had ordered killed, but he wouldn't take in his own daughter? She had expected to hate Derek. But she didn't. Her first view of those piercing blue eyes had sent such a jolt straight up her spine she's thought she must have been struck by lightening. Then he had been so cocky, sitting on her desk like he didn't have a care in the world. And then he had demanded that kiss. And then she had almost melted.

Their lips meet and Derek almost groans. Who is this woman lying in his bed smelling like oranges and vanilla with her body pressed against his? He doesn't know, and he doesn't care. All he wants to do is get closer; pulling her in further against his raging erection as his mouth overtakes hers. She moans a little bit in her throat, and he almost loses it right there. What is it about this woman that makes his skin tingle wherever they touch? What has she done to him?

Meredith was melting. She should tell him to stop. They only had to be in a compromising situation for this to work. She didn't actually have to do something with him. But oh she wanted to. More than she ever thought she would want to. He was going to be her husband in a couple of hours. Why not make it authentic? Had he realized that she had drugged him? He had seemed pretty suspicious before. Where had all of the suspicion gone? Oh, who cares. Right now this feels good. Better than she ever thought it would. Better than she could have ever imagined.

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**but remember when I moved in you**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**and the holy dove was moving too**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**and every breath we drew was hallelujah**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah**_

Their bodies rub together as their tongues intertwine and mate ferociously. He grabs the back of her hair to hold her head the way he wants it. She wraps her legs around his waste and ends up rolling herself on top of him. She doesn't seem to know what to do, so he pulls her up onto him. The first feel of her around him eliciting a heady groan from both of them. But suddenly he hits a barrier, and she winces, and he his eyes open in surprise.

"Don't." She says when he is about to say something. He can see the slight pain in her eyes, but there is also passion. She doesn't cower. She doesn't curl in on herself and try to hide herself. She instead closes her eyes and re-joins their lips.

Why had no one told her it was going to hurt? Well, it seems to be dissipating anyway. She doesn't move, only moving her lips against his and passing her hands through his silky hair. His arms feel almost tender on her shoulders. They rub back and forth along her back until he pulls her up by her under-arms and rolls her onto her back. When he comes back to her, he's gentle and he's kind. He doesn't move too fast until her legs pressure him to go faster. It is only her and him, blended together, their breath growing faster. Until there is no breath, there is no space between them, only an intense pleasure that rolls in between them.

"Meredith." He whispers as he lies spent within her. "What have you done to me?"

Just then, his head seems to clear, the saying of her name bringing it all back, and he realizes where he is. And he realizes who he's with. And he realizes that he's been drugged. He's had laudanum before, and he knows what it does to him. He looks down at the woman who has just given him the most intense pleasure he's ever had in his entire life, her body still flushed from their love-making, and knows that something is wrong.

Her eyes widen when she sees the recognition in his face. He keeps his body pressed down on hers, while he asks, "What have you done?"

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**Well maybe there's a god above**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**but all I've ever learned from love**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**And it's not a cry that you hear at night**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**it's not somebody who's seen the light**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**Hallelujah**_

* * *

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**  
**_

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****____Recommended Soundtrack: 'Jack Sparrow' by Hans Zimmer_

Four lone figures ride along in a large dingy, two men rowing and what looks like two men sitting back and letting themselves be rowed. The sky is still dark, but a certain lightening off in the distance lets them know that it won't be long before the sun breaks free from the horizon. The sea is semi-calm, with only occasional swells raising and lowering the boat as it approaches a much larger ship.

"So, why do I have to play the father again?" One of the rowers asks as he rhythmically dips the oar again and pulls them through the water. "This wig is driving me crazy."

To support his statement, he stops rowing for a second to scratch underneath one of the long powdered curls. The low light doesn't let much else of him be scene, but you can see in the outline that he's dressed like a well-heeled gentleman. Coat and breeches with black buckled shows, topped off by a long flowing wig with curls to boot.

"Cause you're old enough to be her father, that's why." One of the smaller 'men' in the back of the boat answers. But if one looked closer, one could see her face is just a little too feminine to be that of a man. With her small frame and tied down breasts, she might be able to pass as a teenage boy, but a flip of the hat would have dispelled that notion. But for now her black curls are tied up tight beneath a drab secretaries hat and her over-large coat hides the rest.

"Only if I was twelve." The rower answers back caustically. "I still don't see why I couldn't be the priest."

For the other man rowing sports none of than a cardinal's vestments: a long black gown buttoned up all the way to his neck with red velvet buttons. The flap hanging over his shoulders is black too, but the red sash around his waist and the little red cap of hat on the back of his head adds a punch of color. And don't forget the giant rings on his hands and the bible laying at his feet.

"Give over Mark." The remaining 'man' says from his perch next to the secretary, sporting a servant's garb. "No one would believe you were a priest in a million years. Plus, you're like old or something."

"It's called experience, honey." He says with a suggestive wag to his eyebrows.

The other 'man' just glares, the paleness of her face and big brown eyes dispelling the notion that she's anything but a woman dressed up in men's clothes too. You can even see the shine of her long-blonde hair peeking through the ugly brown hat on her head. Well, to those who know her. But to everyone else she's the servant of the bewigged man.

"Could you guys quit talking or something. Aren't we supposed to be 'sneaking' onto the boat?" The priest asks in an exasperated voice.

This shuts all the rest of them up. They all know the plan, but that doesn't mean Alex and Meredith have been successful. For all they know, they could be coming upon a boat-load of angry men ready to trap them. But the boat was anchored just like they had planned. And there was the lone green-colored lamp set upon the sill just like it was supposed to be.

The little dingy draws up next to the much larger ship, and all is silent. There are no men on the riggings, no footsteps scurrying around on the interior. Only the sound of the waves hitting the hull of the larger ship and the two vessels scratching against each other. But then a lone head sticks his head out over the railing.

"You're early." He hisses as Mark throws the rope up over the landing for him to tie down the boat.

"It's almost morning, what do you care?" Christina (or for this segment, secretary to Meredith's father) yells up.

"Whatever. I don't have time for this." Alex mumbles to himself, but loud enough for everyone else to hear.

A rope ladder is dropped off the side of the boat, and Izzie is the first to go up (with a little help from Mark's hands on her ass). Izzie glares at him, but he only winks at her. Christina is next, but she turns around and says to Mark, "If you touch my ass, I'll cut off your balls."

"I didn't want to touch it anyway, Yang." He throws back vindictively.

George is next, with all of his gangly robes, gamely holding his robes with one hand while trying to maneuver the rope with the other. "God, this thing is worse than a dress." George grunts with frustration as his footing becomes intertwined with the rope once more.

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that." Mark says from below.

George doesn't hear him though, because he's already being dragged up the last few steps by Alex. "Don't you dare laugh." Mark can hear George telling Alex as he effortlessely climbs his way up and onto the ship.

Alex can't hide the snicker that comes from his mouth though before he says laughingly, "I've still got a few people to tie up. They're in the captain's quarters over there."

They all look to the ornately decorated door they can see through the galley. There's a low glow of a light permeating the space, like someone's left a lamp on. But all of the sudden, the silence of the morning is shattered by a very large object crashing up against something in the captain's rooms.

"I guess it's time to get started." Mark says almost to himself as he straightens his very ornately decorated gold and peacock blue jacket.

"After you, Lord Grey." Christina answers with a wide flourish toward the door.

So with a full intake of his breath and a charming smile, Mark begins with a loud yell of, "Oh, Meredith! Where are you? Daddy's here to save you!"

* * *

_****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__****__**"What have you done?" **_

"What have I done?!" Meredith responds angrily, just suddenly remembering exactly where she is and who she's with. What has she done?

Their faces are within inches of each other and their bodies still connected, but they might as well be worlds apart. "I don't remember any complaining." Derek hisses.

"Oooh!" Meredith says indignantly and pushes him off of her with all of her might.

The next thing he knows, he's been tossed over the side of the bed and onto the floor. The sound of him hitting the floor reverberates in the cabin, and he's sure throughout the entire ship if the ache in his back is any indication.

He groans, but before he can get up, he hears a man's voice call out "Oh, Meredith! Where are you? Daddy's here to save you!"

"Oh my god, what now?" He says to no one in particular as he stays staring up at the ceiling.

"Oh, no." Meredith says with dread as she jumps out of bed, nimbly jumping over him as she drags the bedsheet behind her.

He sits up, watching her run over to the chair and grab her chemise. She catches him watching her though, and says, "Would you mind turning around?"

"I think it's a little too late for modesty." He answers glibly, knowing that something is very wrong with this picture, but he just can't figure out what.

"Can you just…you know…put something on then." She says, kind of waving her hand around toward his nether regions.

"Why should I? You've obviously drugged me and had your way with me." He answers with no amount of self-pity and flops back down on the floor. "Plus it hurts too much to get up."

The next thing he knows though, he is being kicked by a chemise-adorned Meredith shouting, "Didn't you just hear that man calling out my name? My father is coming in here."

That gets his attention. "Your father?" He asks as he jumps up off the floor.

But he only has enough time to grab her discarded sheet from the chair when, what he could only call a very colorful man, comes charging into his quarters and shouts, "You knave! What have you done with my daughter?!"

Derek stands frozen in place. Someone did not just say that to him. He is not standing in a room naked with a sheet around his waist after having deflowered someone's daughter. This is not happening.

A man in a very fancifully decorated coat (who wears peacock blue these days?) comes barreling into his outer room, soon followed by a man in priest's robes, and some kind of lesser man, like a secretary. They all come to a shocked standstill though when they see the occupants of the room.

"Daddy!" Meredith shouts as she runs up to the ornate man and gives him a giant hug.

Daddy? It figures the little vixen would have her father wrapped around her little finger.

"Meredith, there you are!" The man says as he returns her hug. "Are you alright? Captain Lutsey was able to escape from the pirates and came to me as soon as he could. We found your note. What's going on? Are you alright?"

"Yes pappa, I'm alright. Captain Shepherd was nice enough to rescue me, and he was going to take me to England with him."

Pappa? Oh geez, are those tears? She is good. She is really good.

All three men look up at him simultaneously, obviously taking in his and Meredith's lack of attire. He keeps one hand held fast to his sheet while throwing out his other for a handshake. "Captain Derek Shepherd at your service, sir."

There's a moment of silence, but after a few pauses the other man takes his hand and says, "Sir Thatcher Grey. And can you tell me just what is going on here, Captain?"


	5. Chapter 5

_We have to listen to Cyndi Lauper for this update: Girl's Just Wanna Have Fun_

Meredith, Christina, and Izzie run into her cabin. Meredith is still in her shift but holding her dress in front of her. Izzie has Meredith's shoes and stockings and Christina the corset. They all rush into the room, and as soon as the door is closed fall onto her bed laughing.

"Oh my God, you guys, I seriously thought I was going to lose it!" Meredith says as she rolls around on the bed with her hand on her stomach, trying to control her laughter. "Where did you find that wig?"

The other two can't stop laughing either. "Actually, it was George's fathers." Izzie says, and for some reason they all start laughing again.

"But, wait a minute; I thought Mark was going to be the priest?" Meredith asks as she sits up and tries wiping some of the tears from her eyes. "I thought George had issues with that?"

"You seriously thought Mark would pass for a priest?" Christina asks, as she sits up too. "George can suck it up for one day."

"Yeah, that's like a wolf in sheep's clothing." Izzie adds on. "Plus, I think Captain Shepherd would get suspicious the first time Cardinal Sloan pinched your ass."

"But he only pinches your ass, my dear." Christina says with a pat to Izzie's shoulder.

"It's these breeches, I swear." Izzie says as she stands up. "It's like he thinks they're gift-wrapped, or something."

"Well, aren't they?" Meredith asks with a little knowing quirk to her eyebrows.

Izzie looks nothing but non-plussed though when she answers, "Well, you gotta show off the merchandise every once and a while to get a buyer, don't you?"

Both Meredith and Christina laugh at that. They know that Izzie has been after Mark for a while, but she is holding out for a little more than a night in the sack. She wants marriage. Mark is turning out to be rather dense though.

"I think it's time I get dressed." Meredith says as she makes her way over to the vanity table. "How long do you think they're going to be in there?"

Christina just ignores her statement and moves on to more important matters. "Someone was looking mighty fine in a sheet. I think we all got a good look at someone's merchandise." Christina says suggestively with a wag of her eyebrows as she comes up behind Meredith.

Meredith's only answer is to blush as she thinks about what said 'merchandise' had been doing to her not that long ago.

"Oh, ho. What do we have here?" Christina asks as she sees the blush starting to suffuse Meredith's features.

"What?" Izzie asks from across the room because she's checking out her own ass in the full-length mirror. She's got her back-side facing the mirror and she's twisted around trying to get a good look at it.

"Meredith is blushing." Christina says jovially as she drags a chest over next to the vanity and stares at Meredith meaningfully.

"Blushing? Why?" Izzie asks as she pulls her pants up a little tighter up over her derrière.

"I think someone got more than a little look." Christina offers, but without taking her gaze off of Meredith.

Meredith's only answer is to take her brush off of the vanity table and, while taking the brush through her hair, mumbles, "Who said anything about looking?"

It's loud enough though that Izzie turns around and stares and Christina drops her jaw. It doesn't take long for Izzie to come running over and exclaim while pushing her hands into Meredith's shoulders, "You so have to tell right now."

"Okay, okay." Meredith offers as she tries to shoo Izzie off. "But we are not making a big deal out of this. Okay?"

That last was said specifically to Christina, but Christina only shrugs it off and says, "Whatever you say."

Meredith glares at Christina, but continues to brush her hair and kind of stares off in the distance before answering, "He has these blue eyes that I could just…I don't know…"

"His eyes? Seriously?" Christina asks as Izzie starts to fidget with her hat in the mirror over Meredith's shoulder.

"What? I like his eyes." Meredith counters defensively.

"He does have nice eyes." Izzie offers as she tries different hat angles and pushes her face into different 'masculine' looks.

Christina just rolls her eyes. "And if somebody doesn't help me with my corset, I won't tell you what else I like about him." Meredith offers with a wicked glint to her eyes.

"Now we're talking." Christina says as she jumps up to help Meredith get ready. 

* * *

__

Derek sits cross-legged in one of the chairs opposite his desk, warily looking at the men before him. While he had been dressing, Sir Grey had commandeered the seat behind the desk and was even now sprawled out behind HIS desk with his hands on his belly. The other man stands ready at his shoulder, ready to tender whatever service he can, apparently.

He had only a few moments to decide what to wear, so he had dawned what he felt most comfortable in: a white lawn shirt, buckskin breeches, brown boots, and a chocolate brown over-coat. Just what did one wear to an interview with what he was fast realizing was soon to be his father-in-law? He had one suit set aside for what was supposed to be his wedding to Addison, but for some reason he felt like being piquant, and donned the brown instead.

Just how did he get here? He was supposed to be on his way to marry Addison. Just what was he supposed to do now? The ship he was sailing on wasn't even technically his if he didn't marry Richard's daughter. Just how did he go from being a good Samaritan to having his life ruined in one fell swoop? Was it all some kind of trap? Had she done this on purpose? Had she even been attacked by pirates?

No, that was just too fanciful. How could she have known that his ship was going to be passing by? She had obviously been sitting in that ship for some time. But she had drugged him. Or someone had. How she ended up in his bed, he had no idea. But she had been a virgin, that was for sure. That was entirely his fault. There was no getting around that. Even if she had drugged him and crawled into his bed, he still hadn't had to tup her. Never mind that he had been drugged out of his head and bewitched by an enticing body and an alluring pair of green eyes.

But now her father was standing before him, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for him to say something. Are those gold-embroidered peacocks on his coat? This day could just not get any better.

"Now would you mind explaining to me why my daughter was in your room half-naked while you were gallivanting around in your altogether?" Sir Grey asks with a gruff protectiveness that only father's deeply invested in their child's welfare can pull off.

"I'm not exactly sure Sir, but…" He answers, getting ready to explain.

But he is interrupted by the man shooting up out of his chair and demanding, "You're not sure! Just what kind of funny business is this?! I hope you know that my daughter…"

"There, there, sir. I'm sure he was about to explain. You just have to give him a minute." The cardinal says with a pat to the older man's shoulder. He had been introduced as Sir Grey's friend, and personal chaplin, Cardinal O'Malley. What a cardinal was doing as a chaplin to a mere Sir in the Caribbean was beyond him, but he had heard of stranger things.

The man obviously had a calming influence on his friend, because the man settled down and huffed back into his chair.

"Um, yes." He says with a little more hesitancy. "As I was saying, I'm not exactly sure how…." The man's eyes start filling up with rage again, so he throws out quickly, "But I plan on doing the honorable thing."

All is silent in the room for a second as the other two men absorb this statement, but he is surprised when the other man says, "And who ever said I wanted you for a son-in-law?" And leans back in his chair with a speculative look on his face.

The Cardinal puts pressure on Sir Grey's arm and says, "Sir Grey," in a very low and meaningful whisper.

"No, no." The man says as he waves the other man off. He stares straight at Derek, when he says, "I'd like to know what kind of man he is before he marries my little Petunia. What are your prospects, boy?"

Petunia? As in a sweet little flower? Derek almost snorts, but he catches himself in time. "I've been secretary to the Governor of Tortuga since I was 16 years old. I have some land deeded to me on the North side of Tortuga, but other than that I am what you see before you: an honest man who works hard for what he has and….

Just then he hears a knock on the door.

"Yes?" He asks calmly, expecting his first mate or his cabin boy with his breakfast. Why someone hadn't bothered him earlier, he has no idea.

"Sir, it's Tyler, sir."

"Come in, Tyler. You know you don't have to knock."

He catches a look between the two men in front of him, but he doesn't know what it means until Tyler walks in holding a tied up cabin boy with a scowl the size of the seven seas. His hands are tied behind his back, and Tyler has to push him forward to get him to enter the room. A few groggy men stand behind him in the hallway, bleary-eyed but ready.

"I found this scalliwag tying up the men. The rum's been spiked with laudanum. Most of them are still trying to shake it off." Tyler says as he sends a curious look at the visitors. Derek knows that Tyler never touches the stuff. He has his own personal cask of brandy for personal emergencies, but other than that he refuses to touch any alcohol. Something about his upbringing.

Derek and Tyler share a look that only two people who've known each other for a long period of time can share. Tyler's look says something fowl is going on, and Derek silently agrees. Derek slowly stands and takes a good look at his visitors. Sir Grey looks non-plussed, like the new fallen slow. But Cardinal O'Malley has the look of a man before he's about to handed off to the gallows' man.

For the first time, he realizes that the boat beneath them is not gliding through the water. They are stopped.

"Tyler, why are we stopped?" He asks as a Captain to his crewman, but with an edge to his voice that Tyler picks up on.

"I thought you ordered it, Captain." Tyler answers, the uneasy feeling between them growing.

"Oliver." He tells a red-haired man behind Tyler. "Please bring Miss Grey and her retainers here."

He doesn't wait for the man's nod, before he turns to the next man and says, "Have the entire crew on deck in fifteen minutes."

The other man stiffens up and turns to carry out his order. Finally, he turns to the two men on his right. "Somebody is going to give me some answers, and someone is going to give them to me right now." 

* * *

___Suggested soundtrack: 'Parlay' by Hans Zimmer_

Meredith walks into a very tense situation. Mark sits deceptively lazily lounging in Derek's chair with George straight and frigid at his shoulder. Only Meredith knows that Mark holds a pistol always at the ready under his strongly padded coat. Mark is the only one among them that makes his livelihood more by the sword than the word. Derek's man, Tyler, has Alex seated at the dining room chair Derek sported only last night. His hands are tied behind his back and Tyler leans a hand onto his shoulder in silent language to stay put.

But the man that claims her full attention is the one standing firm and ready in the middle of the room, his arms crossed under his armpits like he is waiting for something, his head down in thought. Everyone is silent, obviously waiting for something. She can't help but notice the smug fit of his tan breeches and the way his lawn shirt is opened a couple of buttons at the chest. The open flesh makes her think about the way it had looked when he had been hovering over her not an hour ago. She shakes her head to dispell the image and walks in.

At her entry, Derek's eyes shoot up and she's met with the cool disregard of a stranger. Gone is the laughing flippancy of the day before. Gone is the smoky sultriness of her dinner companion. His eyes are unclouded. They betray none of the murkiness of drugged languidness or of passion's call. They shoot straight into her, and she almost falters at the blatant accusations running through them. She's made of sterner stuff than that though. She's played nothing but a thief for the past ten years. It's going to take more than the heated stare of a wronged man to get her to crack.

"You asked for my company, Captain Shepherd." She says with as much dignity as she can muster.

She sees his eyebrow quirk in veiled inquiry at her strong offensive. His shoulders relax and while offering her a seat at the dining table says, "Yes, just a moment of your time, please."

The politeness sets her off-guard, the courteous words a strong contrast to what she sees in his eyes. She looks from Mark (who gives nothing away), to George (who gives everything away), and to Alex (who's ties give her at least a clue that something has gone wrong). The fact that Tyler is awake, and obviously not suffering any noticeable signs of laudanum, worries her even more.

She walks over to the proffered chair and takes a very haughty seat. She sees Christina and Izzie line up along the wall next to the door out of the corner of her eye. She flashes a vaguely uninterested glance at Alex and asks, "Why have you tied up your own cabin boy? Was he late with your morning chocolate?"

"Why such a bad mood? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" He asks silkily but with a hard edge.

Her eyes widen, but she can think of nothing to say to that. Apparently, neither can the rest of the group because everyone else stays quiet too. You can hear a pin drop in the room. But then her hackles rise, and she demands, "What is the meaning of this? Yon servant practically dragged me out of my room. I would have come nicely if asked."

"Well, I wasn't so sure of that." He says menacingly, then turns to Mark and says, "How exactly did you find my ship?"

"Meri left a note in her cabin detailing what had happened to her." Mark answers huffily. "I just followed her direction. I don't like the tone of your voice, young man. Just because you've lost control of your ship doesn't have anything to do with me or my daughter!"

"Well I think it does." Derek says ominously, as he turns to her. "Since meeting your daughter, I've had a gun aimed at my head, been drugged, and taken advantage of."

Mer whispers under her breath, "Taken advantaged of, my ass." As he continues with, "Now I find my crew drugged and my boat anchored on a sandbar in the middle of the ocean. While you (pointing to Mark) mysteriously show up at the exact moment of retribution. Oh, and your manservant over there has breasts (pointing to Izzie)."

Everyone stares as Izzie shoots up out of her relaxed position against the wall and places her arms over her chest.

Mark is quick to stand up and walk over to Izzie. He puts his arm around her and says, "Well, thank you very much for embarrassing my amour. Izzie, dear, why don't you head back to the boat."

Izzie gives Mark one of her most dazzling courtesan smiles and answers, "Certainly, Thatcher."

Even Mark looks a little dazzled for a second as Izzie goes to walk out the door. That is, until Derek cries out, "No one is leaving this room until I get some answers."

"Just what kind of answers are you looking for?" Meredith throws out to get Derek's attention off of Izzie and Mark. This is her scheme, and she needs to take responsibility for it.

Derek turns to her and crosses his arms. He gives her a hard look and says, "For one thing, you told me I knew your father. I don't know this man."

"You remember that?" She says with a gulp.

Meredith is silent for a second, sure that her face is giving her away. But then she leans back in her chair and answers nonchalantly, "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

She swears the look in his eyes gets even harder and her nipples tighten in response. He turns to Tyler and says, "Have Private Karev walk the plank. We'll see what she has to say then."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to everyone who commented! I really do enjoy hearing from everyone! I'm putting these chapters up pretty fast to catch this site up with the last. There's probably about 4 more chapters until I enter real writing time. Read. Love. Review!**_  
_

_Song is still 'Parlay' by Hans Zimmer_

When Meredith had come sauntering into his cabin, he had wanted to believe that she had nothing to do with the events of the day. He wanted to believe that Alex acted alone. He just wanted to dub the whole thing a coincidence. But those haughty green eyes told a different story. Little pieces of the puzzle kept flitting together in his brain, connecting the fragments into something altogether sinister. The boat placed perfectly in his path with only a beautiful woman aboard. Pirates attacking in broad daylight only a day's sail from one of the most protected ports of the Caribbean.

Everything was just a little off. If they had wanted the ship, they would have loaded his ship with men and tossed them overboard. Alex could have accomplished that himself. Why involve a woman? Why put her in his bed? He didn't have anything to his name but some potentially lucrative property on Tortuga. It would still take a lot of money to rend any worth out of it or make it a home. Did they think the ship was his? Everyone in the Caribbean knew it was the Governor's ship though. Just what did they hope to get out of this? He keeps asking himself that same question over and over again. And comes up empty.

Derek looks at Meredith, waiting for her to call his bluff. If she was involved, surely she wouldn't let her friend die. Instead, she stays stubbornly poised in her chair. She stares at him with her haughtiest look, proud and virginal in her little white dress. He suddenly realizes just how appropriate her attire had been at dinner last night. Did she realize that? He wouldn't put it past her. It also reminds him of the cottony dryness of his throat that is after-effect of laudanum poisoning. That helps him thicken his resolve.

"Tyler." He says in his driest voice, indicating that Tyler should go out before him. He doesn't break his gaze with her though, giving her one last chance to relent. She doesn't, so Tyler walks by and out the door, and he follows.

Sir Grey stops him at the door, with a hand to the shoulder. "Don't we still have some business to discuss?" He says with an affronted air.

He answers coldly, "I'll be with you momentarily, Sir. A captain's duties must come first."

The man nods sagely, and he swears a look of newfound respect enters the man's eyes. But it is only for a moment, and then it is gone. He takes one last look at Meredith and moves on.

He is momentarily blinded by the sun's rays as he emerges from the darker cabin. The sun is only a couple of degrees above the horizon, telling him that the day is farther along than he thought. Most of his crew stands blurry-eyed and ashamed along the top deck. They line almost every surface of the deck, scrunching in here and there to be able see what is going on. Normally, half the crew would stay below, sleeping while the other half sails the ship. Working in shifts to keep the ship sailing and in tip top shape. Very rarely would the entire crew be called up top.

The men up front are quick to clear a path for Tyler and his captive. Derek follows sedately, picking up on the tension spilling out from his crew. One of their own had tried to drug them and tie them up. One of their own is in ropes. A ship is a small place to live for months, or even years, on end. You have to trust that the man next to you is your ship mate. You have to trust that if a bad storm hits, he will be there to tie down the masts while you flatten the rigging. If you fall overboard, he will be the one to throw the rope. A companionship born of necessity that quickly turns to a way of life.

He can hear his heavy boots clomp along the deck as he saunters up to the side facing the sun. The men fidget while he turns to address them. He places his hands behind his back. He watches the occupants file out of his cabin. The father, the daughter, the mistress, the priest, and the servant all line up along the galley wall to watch the proceedings.

He takes in one last breath and declares, "We have a traitor among us."

The crew shuffles uneasily, the word making them restless and nervous. They all know what happens to traitors. They walk the plank.

"Oliver, Raj, prepare the plank." He tells the two closest men.

They readily comply, bringing up the designated board and tying it to two rum barrels. He's going to have to check all of the stock for laudanum poisoning. He hopes it was only the opened ration that was polluted or they're going to have to make an early port call in Bermuda. They are outfitted for a lengthy trip to England, but the men won't work without rum.

Pretty soon, the make-shift plank is ready and Alex is set up on the barrels. His hands are tied behind his back, the sun shining straight onto his face. Derek can hardly look at him for fear of blindness by the sun. Alex doesn't look left or right. He doesn't deny the charges or shift the blame. He only stares straight ahead mutinously and accepts his fate.

Derek stands to the side, keeping an eye on the proceedings, but also an eye on Meredith. The entire gang watches Alex on the plank like the rest of the crew: their eyes glued to his form perched precariously over the ship. That doesn't tell him anything. It could just be the same regard that any human would feel to see a fellow man designated to the sea. He wishes he could see anything in her face that tells him that this was unnecessary. Was she really not involved? Or was she just not moved? Or does she just not care about this man's fate?

He can't take the chance with his crew's fate though, so he orders Taylor to proceed. Tyler tells Alex to, "Get going." With a shoo of his sword.

Alex glares at Tyler, but he doesn't say anything. He walks further out onto the plank, passing over the ship's safe side and out over the sea. His steps are small and hesitant, but he walks out anyway. His hands start to shake, but his head stays forward. The board wobbles a bit with his weight, but it's been perfectly designed to hold a much bigger man.

He's really going to have to do this, isn't he? He's heard about the practice, but he's never had to witness one himself or carry one out. Contrary to popular belief, traitors are few and far between. Everyone is here to make a living and return to their families. Mutinies are the talk of fables. He takes one last look at the man he about to consign to the murky depths and raises his hand for the order.

He pauses longer than necessary, hoping for one last plea.

Silence.

He takes a deep breath and starts to speak.

But before he can, a lone female voice calls out pleadingly, "Alright, alright, I'll tell you what you want to know. Just please…just please get him off of that thing."

He silently sighs in relief and turns to face her. She pushes her way through the men, forcing her way up to him. He can see the defeat and the anguish in her face, but also a hint of determination. God, what a beautiful woman.

He waits for her to approach him, her breath coming rapidly and tightly in her corset stays. She stares up at him determinatively as the sun shines brightly over her golden tresses. Her cat-like eyes daring him to ask his questions.

"Why?" He asks simply, knowing that she knows what he is asking.

She might as well have shot him through the gut though when she answers, "Because I wanted to marry you."

* * *

"You want to marry me?" He asks in surprise. She wants to marry him? But why? This just makes no sense. 

There might as well be only the two of them standing out on that deck. He stares at her, trying to decipher if what she is saying is true. The logical part of his brain says it makes sense. It explains why she was in his bed this morning. It explains the timely arrival of her father with a priest. She's lied to him so much though that he has no idea whether she's telling the truth or not.

"Yes." She answers grimly, a determined set to her mouth that gives him no indication of what she's thinking.

Her hands are balled at her sides, telling him that what she said was not an easy thing for her to do. Or was she just willing herself to keep a straight face while she lied to him again? He guesses there's only one way to find out.

He turns to Tyler and says, "Bring him down off of there."

He can physically see her shoulders drop in relief, but then they scrunch up again, when he calls out across the deck, "Cardinal O'Malley, could you come here for a moment?"

He breaks eye contact with her a moment to see if the cardinal is actually doing what he asked. He sees the man look to the mistress for help, but the mistress just shakes her shoulders in bewilderment and shoos him on. God, the crew must be having a field day with this. They all know he is going to England at the Governor's bidding, but the betrothal wasn't public knowledge. There was no telling what Burke would do if he thought he was going to lose his prize.

He watches out of the corner of his eye as the Cardinal makes his way through the wall of people. The crew stepping aside reluctantly to let the man pass. He keeps his eye on Meredith the entire time though to try and gage her reaction. She gives nothing away.

The man finally makes his way up to them, and he asks simply, "Are you really a Cardinal?"

He swears that the man's eyes literally try to pop out of his head, and he looks to Meredith for support.

"It's alright, George, you can tell him." Meredith answers vaguely.

Derek merely lifts an eyebrow to lead the man to speak. His only answer is a guarded, "No."

"Do you have any ecclesial training?" He pushes.

"Yes." George answers truthfully.

"Why the cardinal?" Derek asks, his curiosity piqued.

"It's me fathers." George answers with a small amount of humor.

"Ah." Derek says with amused understanding. "Do you have the authority to marry us?"

It was the only way he could think of to see if she really wanted to marry him: he was going to call her bluff. If she cried off, he'd know that she had lied again. If she didn't, then he was doing the gentlemanly thing for what he had done this morning. He'll be losing his rights to this ship, and will be letting down his mentor, but some things just couldn't be helped.

George looks from Derek to Meredith, and then looks back to Derek to say, "Yes, I have a special license that I had my father draw up. I…uh…am not a practicing priest, but I did train to be one."

Now there's an interesting story. But he doesn't have time to find out right now. Instead, he turns to her and asks, "Is that really your father?"

She looks like she is in shock. The blood has drained from her face. But she holds it together enough to answer, "No."

Ah, he didn't think so. "Would you still like him to give you away?"

She looks back at her fake-father, still in a daze. Nobody but them can hear what they are saying, so the fake Thatcher Grey just raises his eyebrows in a questioning manner.

"No, I'd like Chris to do it." She says when she looks back at him. He must look a little confused, because she answers, "The one dressed like a secretary."

"Alright, then." He says as this start to settle. "O'Malley, it's your floor."

"Um…uh…I need my book." He says nervously, and then quickly darts back into Derek's cabin.

Derek watches the man trip and bumble his way to the cabin door, and he almost feels like laughing. The man's just got no grace. The other member's of Meredith's crew grab him before he goes in the door, but he just hurriedly whispers something to them and darts into the cabin. He must have told Chris something though, because she starts make her way toward them.

He doesn't care about them though. He cares about the woman in front of him. "If you want to back out, now's the time to do it." He offers one last time.

* * *

Wait a minute, he thinks she's going to back out? 

"No." She answers simply, holding her ground.

She tells him the truth, and he still doesn't believe her? She hadn't really thought that would happen, but she shouldn't be surprised. She has been lying him practically since the minute they met. And she did drug him and try to instigate a shot-gun wedding. No one had brought out the guns, but she hadn't thought it would come to that anyway. She guesses she wouldn't believe her either.

She knew this man. Or at least she thought she did. She hadn't run into this blindly. She had been searching for a way to get back at her father for years. Every extra penny she earned went toward bribing information out of the Governor's lower servants. She had probably funded an entire regiment of early retirements for his footman. All in the hope of somehow gleaning some sort of pertinent information.

She remembers the day she had learned that the Governor's second-hand man was going to marry her sister. And was going to be given this ship in return. She had seen her path for revenge as if the Red Sea had parted in front of her. She even has a copy of the betrothal agreement detailing the award of one ship, 'Pirate's Bounty', to one Captain Shepherd on the marriage to the Governor's daughter. The word 'daughter' had stuck out at her. There was no naming of said daughter, only the singular word spelled out in flourishing ink. And an idea had been born.

She would marry this man and in one fell swoop she would have her sister's man and her ship. The fastest ship in the Caribbean. There was a lot her little group of bandits could do with a ship like this. Their little group had long ago pooled their money and bought their own ship, but the 'Pirate's Bounty' was an entirely different sort of ship. A fast ship. A beautiful ship. Her father's ship.

First, she had had to know what kind of man her future husband was though. There was no use in going through the plan if she was going to be stuck with a dolt or a prig or any sort of nasty things husbands could be. So she had used her remaining savings to find out just what sort of person he was. She learned of the pebble-throwing lesson story from an aging housekeeper at a local Inn. She learned of the Governor's vested interest in Derek's schooling from a retired tutor. She had even sat in on one of the court days he had conducted in the name of the Governor.

She had only heard good things about him though. How he was smart and caring. How he dispensed justice with a fair but iron hand. How he was nice to the servants, always asking them about their families and lives. How he had built his mother and sisters a house in town with his own earnings even before he had purchased some land for himself. All of these things she had seen for herself from a distance as he had meted out justice in the Governor's name. He always heard both sides of an argument before he came to a decision. He wouldn't take the word of a husband or a father over a wife or a daughter just because they were a woman.

What she hadn't been prepared for was the way his eyes pierced into her soul and wouldn't let go. The effortless way he exuded charm and a regal bearing. But the real reason she had gone forward with the plan was a little inkling that maybe this was the right man for her. She had even started to imagine what it would be like to be married to him. And now she was getting her wish. He knew that she had lied to him, had duped him, and might still, but he still wanted to marry her. He was going to do the honorable thing. It's at that moment that she realizes that she might actually come to love this man.

* * *

_Suggested soundtrack is The Aria of the Goldberg Variations by Bach. _

George comes tearing back through the men, his book held tight to his vestments as he tries to hold onto his cap. The slight breeze that was just blowing up and over the ship has picked up. Meredith feels the wind blowing at her dress and face. She doesn't know why that is important. But it's better to think about the wind than the fact that she's actually going to be getting married in the next few minutes.

"Do you want your friends to be up front?" Derek asks softly, maybe kind of understanding her hesitation.

"Yes, please." She asks, suddenly a little shy.

She can't look up at him, so he takes her hand in his instead. As he intended, it makes her look up at him. He doesn't look like the man only moments ago ordering everyone around. He looks more like the man who had only hours ago lain within her. His eyes are soft and rounded in sympathy but surrounded by a wariness that she knows that she has created. The bluster and the charm are absent as well as the air of command. This man is Derek, she suddenly understands.

Derek stares down at the fiery beauty that is soon to be his wife. He believes that now. She looks up at him with just such a look that gives him his first real glimpse of her. Or maybe the second. The first had been when those cool green orbs had turned to him in bed this morning. He suddenly has an insight that all of the cockiness and defensiveness is just a shield. She had lied to him and drugged him, but in this moment she is truly Meredith.

"Shall we begin?" He says with a little smile. He doesn't know why he does it, but it just seems right thing to do. To start off their marriage with at least some friendliness toward each other. He is rewarded by a smiling nod from her, and they both turn toward the front.

George stands tall and proud with the sun to his back, his body covering the unused plank from view. He opens his book to a marked spot, pulling the little piece of ribbon aside, and begins to speak.

"Meredith and Derek, today you celebrate one of life's greatest moments and give recognition to the worth and beauty of love, as you join together in vows of marriage."

Wow, George is really good at this, Meredith thinks as his normally stilted voice takes on a cool undulating rhythm.

"Who gives this woman to this man?" George asks and then looks up hurriedly.

"Um…I guess I do." Christina comments from Meredith's left. Meredith reaches with her other hand to take Christina's. It's been a long road getting here. Christina understands that and pats her friend on the shoulder before taking a step back. Meredith fights back tears as she turns to face George.

"Derek, do you take Meredith to be your wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only unto her?" George asks, reading the words slowly and carefully, even though everyone here has probably heard them many times.

"I do." Derek answers, the words love, honor, cherish, and protect sinking into him as if someone had transcribed them onto his heart.

George turns to Meredith and says, "Meredith, do you take Derek to be your husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others and holding only unto him?"

Meredith hears the words, maybe for the first time understanding just exactly what she is getting herself into. She had thought about the revenge and the plotting and the ultimate goal, but never the reality of this moment.

"I do." She says simply, a little breathless at the thought of what it means.

"Um…I think we have to skip the next part." George says, suddenly flustered. "I forgot about the ring part."

Meredith and Derek stare at each other kind of frozen. They had both been going along in a daze, just repeating what needed to be said, letting the words sink into them. Neither were prepared for any interruptions.

"Oh, wait." Derek suddenly remembers. Somehow Tyler has worked his way around to stand at Derek's right. He turns to him and says, "Could you get the box out of the safe?"

Tyler raises his eyebrows in a questioning manner, but Derek only tells him to get going with a nod of his head. Everyone stands there awkwardly as Tyler goes into the cabin for a minute and then comes out with a small box. He opens it to reveal two gold bands laid out in a small jeweler's box. Meredith swallows hard, knowing just who they were meant for.

Derek takes the smaller ring out of the box, and George begins again, with "Repeat after me. I, Derek, take the, Meredith, to be my Wife."

"I, Derek, take thee…" Derek repeats as he stares straight into her eyes. "to be my wife."

Meredith's hand starts to shake as George says, "To have and to hold, in sickness and in health…"

"To have and to hold, in sickness and in health…"

"for richer or for poorer…"

"For richer or for poorer…"

"With this ring, I thee wed."

Her hand is shaking so badly by the time Derek repeats, "With this ring, I thee wed." that he has to hold it still while he slides the ring on.

Her hand is shaking.

George starts with, "I, Meredith, take thee Derek, to be my husband." As Derek hands over the final ring to her.

She takes it with a kind of wonder, and he can't help thinking that she's just as affected by this as he is.

"I Meredith, take thee Derek, to be my husband." She says in a small voice, so soft it is almost a whisper.

"To have and to hold, in sickness and in health…"

"To have and to hold, in sickness and in health…" She repeats in a little stronger voice.

"for richer or for poorer…"

"For richer or for poorer…" She says a little stronger still, so that when George finally says, "With this ring, I thee wed.", she echoes it with the voice Derek is coming to know is normal for her.

She slides the ring on his finger, and George says, "I now declare you to be Husband and Wife. You may kiss the bride."

They both kind of stare at each other in shock. They're married. It just doesn't seem quite real. He automatically bends down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. But as his lips connect with hers he is reminded of the fiery passion and connectedness of this morning, and his lips linger. She kisses him back slightly, the barest pressing of her lips against his. But he knows she feels it too. She wasn't bluffing. She really did want to marry him. Or she called his bluff. Either way, they are married. Now just what was he going to do now?


	7. Chapter 7

**So I like to think of Chapters 1-6 as one giant story arc. Chapter 7 starts off the new arc, but brings some of the old arc with it. You may have noticed that my Meredith and Derek are a little bit different than the ones on the show. I like to think of this Meredith as what would have happened to her if instead of boys and tequila she had found revenge. So of course Derek has never been married to Addie in this and Mark is not his best friend. So I see him as much more of his naturally cocky self. I hope you are enjoying the story! Read. Love. Review!**

The ring shines golden in the lamp-light as Meredith holds her hand out in front of her. She sits in the bed that is now her and Derek's, with one noticeable person absent: Derek. She looks over at his side of the bed, pulled straight by the new cabin boy, but wrinkled just a bit by her presence. She's been sitting in here a long time. A very very long time. Didn't Captains have to sleep too? Especially just married ones? It's obviously very late. It's been dark for quite a while now. She's even starting to nod off after the excitement of the day. She yawns and holds her ring back up to the light.

After the ceremony, Derek had had to get the ship back on course and untangle all of the messes she had made. Christina, Izzie, George, and Mark had gone back to her ship and were following at a short distance. Mark had made some kind of crack about leaving the two love-birds alone, but not before giving her a big hug. They had all given her a hug. Christina's the biggest of them all with a not-so-quiet comment about them being only a signal away. You know, just in case.

Meredith had decided it was probably best to stay out of the way the rest of the day, or at least until the crew got over the little matter of being drugged. Alex was still technically a part of Derek's crew, so he was currently serving out a punishment of privy and ship-cleaning duties. She really felt bad about that, but she really hadn't been in a position to gainsay anything Derek had to say either. She'll think of something to reward him with later. Maybe a nice seniorita at their next port call? He'd probably like that.

So she had spent the entire day moving things around in her cabin the way she wanted them: taking all her personal effects out of her chests, re-arranging all of her clothes to the way she wanted them, and even setting out her favorite books on the little escritoire. It was weird not to have anything to do. All of her days previously had been filled with planning for this day. Every minute, every hour, every thought not spent earning a living used to further her revenge.

And now she had it. Or she would the next time she saw Webber. It was a heady experience. And yet…she's not sure what she's actually accomplished. She's married to a man that she had to trick into marrying her. She's got her father's ship but it's really Derek's ship. Except he doesn't know that it's his because he thought he had to marry Addison to get it. She should just tell him that Addison was her sister and Webber her father. That way they could be married, he could have his ship, and she would get her revenge on top of it.

But what if he hated her? He already didn't trust her. She could tell he hadn't really expected her to go through with the wedding. He had looked quite shocked to actually be married after the words had been spoken and she stood there before him as his wife. In fact, she had been quite shocked too, but for an entirely different reason. Shocked that she had actually gotten her wish. Shocked that she really hadn't had to trick him into marrying her. She's pretty sure that it was because of what had happened this morning. And that hadn't even been in her plan! Would it be different now that he actually knew that it was her in his bed? He certainly hadn't known it was her until after the deed was certainly done.

She holds her ring up again, and suddenly kicks up her resolve. She's been meandering around downstairs all day, pretending to do things, but really waiting for him to come down and see her. She had eaten lunch and dinner alone, first in her cabin and then in his. She had investigated all of the nooks and crannies of her immediate home, ran her finger along all of his book titles, and even read a chapter or two. Read a book for god sakes! She knows he's got a ship to run, but he could have at least had dinner with her! She flips back the sheets on the bed and slips her feet into her bed slippers. She can't wear her night-gown out in front of all of those men, so she grabs one of his coats out of his armoir and puts it on. Now let's just see what her errant husband has been up to!

* * *

_Suggested soundtrack: 'Delicate' by Damien Rice_

Derek wanted to go downstairs. He wanted to go in his cabin and talk to Meredith. Well, he wanted to do more than talk, but it sounded better in his head if he said it to himself that way. It was just that, he knew what to do with a certain type of women and he knew how his mother and sisters liked to be treated, but he wasn't exactly sure what to do with a wife. Well, he knew what he wanted to do with his wife, but he wasn't sure what said wife wanted to do. She said that she wanted to marry him. But was this morning just a means to an end or was that really who she was? Would she really be that loving and pliant sprite from this morning or had it only been an act to entrap him? There was only one way to find out, but he just kept telling himself that he would find out in a couple of minutes.

Well, a couple of minutes had turned into all day. This morning he really hadn't had time to really think about it. There was a ship to get back on track, a crew to placate, orders to be given, and rum stores to be checked for laudanum. Lunch time and then dinner time had just skipped right by him unawares. By the time he had known what time it was, the sun had been setting and his stomach grumbling fiercely. So he had grabbed some dinner from the crew's kitchen, told Mooney that he'd take the wheel, and brought his meal up here.

Here being his favorite part of the ship: the top deck. It was his own special place set up on the fore of the ship. Only the first mate and sometimes Tyler were allowed up here, and that was if he let them. The wheel graced the very front and there was a small space behind for a man to stretch his legs. Where he was sitting though was a large table set out between the wheel and the main mast. He had his star charts sprawled out on the long table, trying to pinpoint exactly where they were. Well, he knew they were headed north, but he wasn't sure exactly how far off course they were with the detour to catch Meredith's boat and wherever Alex decided had decided to dump them.

Normally, he would have been able to figure it out in no time. But tonight a pair of haunting green eyes kept invading his thoughts and disrupting his calculations. He swears he's done the same calculation about a million times already. Not too long ago he had just completely given up and was just sitting there enjoying the feel of the ship glide through the night as he tried to buoy up his courage to go downstairs. It was a calm night, the sea barely moving. On calm nights like this the ship seemed to almost float on the water, the moon illuminating a placid surface with minor undulations underneath. The wind was just enough to push them along, but they wouldn't be breaking any speed records.

He just sits there, letting the wind whip through his hair, feeling the gentle sway of the ship beneath him, when he spies a flash of white along the main deck. Uh oh. It must be really late if she's coming out to look for him. She sees his light and immediately heads for his sanctuary. She seems to be wearing something dark over her night-gown. Is that one of his coats? The thought makes him feel a little funny inside. He immediately stands for her arrival, not really sure what he is going to say. She comes heavy-footed up the stairs, but slows when she gets to the top. She doesn't seem to know what to say either because she comes to a complete stop on the other side of the table.

_**We might kiss when we are alone**_

_**When nobody's watching**_

_**We might take it home**_

_**We might make out when nobody's there**_

_**It's not that we're scared**_

_**It's just that it's delicate**_

"Um…yeah…I was going to…" Derek says.

Meredith stares at the man who is her husband, thoughts of what she was going to say flying out of her head. She was going to berate him for not checking on her all day, but something tells her that that might not be her best option. He doesn't look like he was trying to avoid her, he just looks…vulnerable.

"Yes…well…I decided to come see you instead." Meredith says as she rings her hands from side to side.

She looks so cute in his coat and her white-lawn night-gown, that he is momentarily at a loss for words. Her hair is set free and falls freely down her back in waves. She looks like a little girl wrapped up in her father's coat. Except he knows she's not a little girl, because he can clearly see her nipples through the think fabric of her night-dress. He's suddenly glad that the table is between them, so that she doesn't see just how much of an effect she does have on him.

"You can sit down, you know." He says, hating the slight nervousness in his voice, but not being able to do anything about it.

Meredith catches the nervousness in his voice, but doesn't know what to do with it. Why should he be nervous? He's the one all gorgeous in his white linen shirt and breeches. The dull light from the over-hanging lamp shedding a soft light on his features. Who knew blue was such a beautiful color?

She looks at the little bench in front of her and then must realize that she's paused, because she jerkily says, "Oh, yeah…sure."

She sits. The boat glides through the water. The wind ripples through the sails and both of their hair, but nothing is said.

_**So why do you fill my sorrow**_

_**With the words you've borrowed**_

_**From the only place you've know**_

_**And why do you sing Hallelujah**_

_**If it means nothing to you**_

_**Why do you sing with me at all?**_

"So…uh, what are you doing?" Meredith finally asks when there is nothing offered on his part.

"Oh." He says, suddenly remembering his real purpose in coming up here. "I'm trying to figure out where exactly we are. With everything…today...we've kind of gotten of course."

"Oh, that's easy." She says, sweeping her eyes over the nautical charts and placing her finger at a specific spot. "That's where I dropped anchor, that's where I told them you'd be, so that means we should be about here."

He looks at her finger, does a quick calculation in his head, and discovers that she's right. He scrunches up features, and asks wonderingly, "You've thought about this for a long time, haven't you?"

Meredith blushes, but she really can't think of anything to say that wouldn't make her sound either desperate or deranged, or both. "Um…yeah…"

"I have to admit that it's all a bit flattering, but if you wanted to marry me, why didn't you just…you know, go about it in the regular sort of way." He asks, trying to vent at least a little bit of his frustrations. "I mean, is Meredith even your real name?"

**We might live like never before**

**When there's nothing to give**

**Well how can we ask for more**

**We might make love in some sacred place**

**The look on your face is delicate**

Ouch. She guesses she deserved that. It still kind of hurts though to have your own husband question your identity. "Yes, that's my real name." She answers a little brusqly as she pretends to scratch something with her finger on the table.

"Lady Meredith Jane Grey." She whispers almost to herself as she thinks about what that name used to mean to her.

"Is Thatcher Grey really your father? Or did you make that up too?" Derek asks shortly. He doesn't mean to sound angry, but honestly he is. His entire life has seemed to spin out of control over the last twenty-four hours and it's because of this woman sitting before him, looking like nothing but a scared virgin in her night-clothes.

"Was." She says simply.

"Was?" He asks a little surprised.

"My father died when I was five." She answers in a dead voice, the subject obviously something that is very painful.

**So why do you fill my sorrow**

**With the words you've borrowed**

**From the only place you've know**

**And why do you sing Hallelujah**

**If it means nothing to you**

**Why do you sing with me at all?**

Dammit. Now he feels like a cad. "Look, I'm sorry." He says as he wipes his hand through his hair in frustration. "It's just been one of those days, you know?"

She finally looks up at him, those green eyes probably seeing more than he wants them to. But then her face cracks into a smile and she says, "You mean, you don't like to start your day drugged and called onto the carpet by a fake-father and a merry bunch?"

At first, he's kind of shocked at her words. But then he starts to find the humor in the situation too. "Well, it was nice to wake up to a naked woman in my bed." He answers jokingly.

She doesn't know where the courage comes from, but the words just pour forth from her mouth. "Well, if you came to bed, there might be one there tomorrow too."

His eyebrows shoot upward, and she starts to think that she's been too forward. But then his face breaks out in a large grin.

"Well, if you put it that way." He says as he comes around the table.

He grabs the lantern from the over-head catch and signals Mooney to come up and take over his wheel duties. He passes on the new coordinates that Meredith gave him and grabs onto her hand.

He can't help but say as he leads her down the steps though, "They're better not be any more irate fathers though. I plan on lingering over my morning chocolate tomorrow."

The sound of her giggles warms his heart all the way to his cabin and beyond.


	8. Chapter 8

_Suggested soundtrack: 'Slow like honey' by Fiona Apple'_

They both walk in Derek's cabin, his hand on her back, and both still giggling. But it's as if the moon-lit comraderie of outside is shut off when they enter the confines of the cabin. The fire that the new cabin boy lit while Meredith was having dinner is still lit in the grate and burning brightly. It's one thing to wake up to a naked woman in your bed. It's an entirely different thing to unclothe a woman, brash comments or not, who was looking like she might just run right back out the door at any moment. Derek decides to take the high road and walks over to the side-board and his generous supply of liquor.

"Would you like a Scotch? I think I'm going to have one." Derek says as he grabs two tumblers out of the cabinet.

She watches him pour the Scotch out of a clear crystal decanter, but halts him before he can pour any into her glass. "Do you have any Brandy?"

He gives her such a look that says he shouldn't have been surprised. "What?" She asks to defend herself.

"Nothing." He says as he replaces the Scotch decanter and picks up another one. But as he's pouring, he must change his mind, because when he turns to bring over her drink he says, "You've had a rather unusual upbringing, haven't you?"

"You could say that." She says amusedly as she takes a slow sip of her brandy.

She watches his eyes as they follow her glass to her lips, not sure if it's the fiery liquid or his stare that warms her insides. He is nothing but polite though when with a flare of his hand, he indicates that they sit in front of the fire. She readily complies after a thoughtful perusal of his face. Is it just the fire-light or her own imagination that makes her imagine that his eyes have turned a stormy blue? She had thought them almost a periwinkle in the direct sun, but now they seem almost navy in their intensity.

She sits down gingerly on the sofa, feeling his eyes following her back as he joins her and asks, "No, seriously. I mean, we are married now. It'd be nice to know something about each other. Well, you seem to know a lot about me, but I know next to nothing about you."

"What would you like to know?" She asks as she pulls her feet up under her night-gown. She leans back against the high-backed French-looking sofa and eyes him surreptitiously.

He watches her with lidded eyes, marking her challenging stare with one of his own. She might not know it, but her little maneuver to put some distance between them had only just given him a free view of her ankles. He might have seen her naked this morning, but it looked like she wasn't about to give it up easily. Surprisingly, he kind of likes it that way.

"So we've established that you are, in fact, a lady." He says with a little teasing tilt to his lips. "But that doesn't tell me anything about who you are. Who's your family? Where were you born?"

"Ah, so you want to know my history?" Meredith answers with a little tilt to her head. He nods at her while he takes a sip of his drink, so she says, "I was born in Kingston, Jamaica to one Ellis and Sir Thatcher Grey in the year 18XX. My middle name is Jane after the late Jane Grey, my grandmother. My father shot himself when I was five after he found out that I wasn't his daughter. My mother had been having an affair. After my mother admitted it to me, I left the house at 18 to confront my real father. He didn't want to have anything to do with me either though, and I was left destitute and poor with not a penny to my name."

While she had been talking, Derek had set aside his drink and picked up her foot. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but the soporific effects of the alcohol was making her feel rather languid, and so she let him. Her tirade had started out sounding very clipped and angry, but had turned into an absent recitation as he had pulled her legs into his lap and tosses her slippers aside.

"What did you do then?" He asks as he begins to massage her feet, a curious but cautious frown gracing his features.

She gulps a little bit as she feels his bare hands wrapping around her feet with consummate skill. He brushes his thumbs across the top of her arches and then squeezes the soreness out of them. God, that is heaven.

"I didn't do anything. That's when I found my friends." She says as he continues to rub her feet. Her spine begins to feel like jelly as he switches to the other foot and rubs it just as nicely.

"They saved you?" He asks as he pushes the lower folds of her night-gown up and begins to rub her lower calf.

"In a manner of speaking." She says with a little giggle, as she realizes that she's probably had a little too much to drink.

"What?" He asks as he slides his hand even further up her leg. The massage seams to be forgotten, because his hand travels up her inner thigh light as a feather. The self-protective side of her tells her she should stop him, but that once strong voice seems to have diminished in the last couple of hours.

"It tickles." She answers with a little twitch of her legs as he leans closer to her.

"What tickles?" He asks with a devilish twinkle to his eye as he brings his lips up close to hers. His mouth hovers just as tantalizingly far enough away from hers as his hand does from other areas. If she had time to think about it, she might blush. But right now, she is so over-heated that no one would be able to tell. She still has his coat on over her night-gown. And with his warm body pressed up against her and the blazing fire, she is about to roast alive.

She starts to try and wriggle out of the coat, but there's not enough room to maneuver. "Here, let me help you with that." He says as he sits up to help her off with the coat. "You looked very cute in that, you know."

She gives him an indescribable look, but only says, "I didn't think you'd appreciate me walking around the ship half-naked."

"No, but I did appreciate being able to see your nipples through your night-gown." He says with a laugh as he bends down to place his mouth over the afore-mentioned member.

Meredith gasps. Whether if it's from what he said or what he's doing to her nipple, he has no idea. But he doesn't really care. He tries to flick off his boots behind him, but they don't seem to want to cooperate. He can hear her laughing as he tries to keep his mouth on her nipple while simultaneously trying to kick his boots free.

"Don't laugh at me." He says joyously as he starts to join her.

"Why not?" She answers as she lays there being no help whatsoever.

"Because it's not nice." He says as he finally gives up and straightens up to take them off the proper way.

Meredith starts to rise, and he tries to stop her with his hand. But she stops him with a hand and stands up anyway. And then she does something wholly unexpected. She grabs the fine lawn night shirt and pulls it up and over her shoulders. His mouth goes a little dry as she stands before him naked in the fire-light. He's never seen anything so gorgeous in his entire life. And she knows it too because she turns around and without a word walks into his, no their, bedroom. After that, he doesn't remember where his boots went. Or the rest of his clothes for that matter. Clothes were really over-rated anyway.

* * *

_Recommended Soundtrack: 'Two hornpipes' by Hans Zimmer_

Christina, Mark, Izzie, and George are out enjoying the beautiful night too, but in a different way: alcohol and games of chance. Their boat is smaller and they can't risk having any other crew than the few extra they have (George's brothers), so they take turns manning the wheel and making a play. They have the entire ship set up for a smaller crew. The rigs on the sails, the anchor, and all the rest has been set-up with pulleys and rope to tie up and release with a couple tugs of the rope. That way they can sail on their merry way without the army of men that Derek needs. When Alex's father wasn't drunk, he was a well of ideas and inventions. Too bad that wasn't very often or he might have ended up somewhere else than debtor's prison.

Mark has changed out of his shining peacock ensemble into a something a little more comfortable: a lavender velvet coat on top of a gold embroidered vestment. His motto is: just because you're a pirate, doesn't mean you can't dress well. He abhors wigs, so scratchy, so his own hair is lightly powdered and tied back with a ribbon. Christina and Izzie are still in their boy costumes and George has changed into some breeches and a linen shirt.

"Do you have to powder it when you're at the helm? I keep getting puffs of powder up my nose every time the wind kicks up." Christina barks from her position at the table behind him. The little table is spread out with dominoes and Christina is on one side and Izzie and George on the other.

"You didn't have to come up and keep me company." Mark says with a wink back at her.

"Don't get your hopes up." Christina says absently as she places her domino down. "You know we're out here in case Meredith signals us."

"I don't think there's going to be any signaling. Did you see the way they looked at each other at the wedding?" Izzie says with a romantic sigh when it is her turn. "And I think the powder smells nice."

"Of course you do." Christina says with a roll of her eyes, and then barks out, "Mark, it's your turn." And to Izzie, "You think she's going to be happy?"

"George, take the wheel man." Mark half-way orders/asks George as he walks over to Izzie's side of the table.

George silently gets up from his seat and heads over to the wheel.

"I don't know. For a man that got tricked in getting married, he sure didn't seem too upset about it." Izzie says with a shrug of her shoulders.

Mark takes George's chair and assesses the board.

"Oh, you mean the walking the plank part was just for fun?" Christina scoffs.

"That was just all the testosterone talking." Mark remarks as he sidles up next to Izzie. "I think she's going to be leading him around by his breeches pretty soon, if not already. She's a fire-cracker, that one. How did you guys meet, by the way?"

Izzie and Christina give each other a secret glance. It's not their place to tell Meredith's story.

Christina ignores his question to ask, "What do you think is wrong with the Cardinal? He looks like his kitten just died."

"I think he's just sad that Meredith's gone." Izzie offers as she purposefully leans her elbows on the table to offer Mark a clearer view of her cleavage.

Mark's not paying any attention though. He's perusing through his dominoes, trying to think of his next play. "Why? Did he have a thing for her or something?" Mark asks as he finally finds the piece he is looking for her.

Mark hasn't been with them long, so he doesn't know all of the group dynamics. They've seen him here and there, but he only got hired on for this mission. "More like an obsession." Christina answers as she draws from the pile. She throws it down quickly though, and says to Mark, "Aha, drink it down pansy boy."

"Man, why did I have to get behind you today? I'm going to be drinking all night." Mark says with self-pity and takes a swig of their rum stash. They save the good stuff for the play-offs.

"Because your mistress and the cardinal can't hold their liquor worth a damn." She says non-chalantly. "Very good save there, by the way."

"I try." He says suavely, trying not to acknowledge that she's actually given him a compliment.

"It could have all been avoided if Izzie had just listened to me in the first place!" Christina says with feeling as Izzie is perusing her pieces.

Izzie only glares back at Christina though, because Christina knows why she didn't bind her breasts: she was trying to get Mark's attention. Well, at least they got another man's attention, good or bad, she thinks as she places her piece down with a click and says to Christina, "Drink up Miss know-it-all."

"Dammit." Christina says as she grabs her drink and takes a sip. "George, it's your turn."

George turns around, but then he spots something in the distance. Everyone turns around to see what he is looking at. There seems to be a lone dingy sailing in the water about half-way between their ships. The person in the boat must have just turned on their light, because moments before there had been nothing out there.

"Alex!" Izzie exclaims as she goes running down the stairs to the main deck. All the rest of them follow, except George stuck at the wheel.

They wait for his boat to come up along-side and catch the rope he throws up to them. Mark ties off the boat for the time being and they let out the rope ladder for Alex. Alex makes his way up, taking the lantern with him, and ascends to the deck with an exhausted grunt.

Izzie is quick to hug him, but even quicker to draw back at the smell that is surrounding him. "Oh my God Alex, what did they do to you?" She says as she pinches her nose.

"Privy duty." He says as he draws the rope back up behind him.

"Well, it's good to have you back man." Mark says with a pat to his back.

The two of them don't really get along, or it's more that Alex doesn't like Mark, so he just ignores the comment, and says, "So what's the game tonight?"

They all follow him back up to the top deck, glad to ignore the untidy events of the day if Alex is willing to. They all saw his hands shake up on the platform, but they also know that he would never admit it in a million years.

"Dominoes." Christina answers as they all settle around the table again.

Without asking, Mark pulls out a bottle of Scotch and fills up everyone's glasses. George leaves the wheel for a moment and they all raise their glasses. "To Meredith." George says, and they all chime in with "To Meredith" and clink their glasses together.

* * *

_**Bending spoons with my mind,**_

_**manifesting men of all kinds**_

_**in my spare time.**_

_**But oh, how I struggled in vain,**_

_**to solve this riddle with my brain**_

_**when the answer's in my hands. **_

The time for talking is over. Derek pauses in his bedroom doorway, frozen at the site before him. The fire-light had bathed her in a healthy glow, but the lamp-light passes a mesmerizing illumination. She stands before his bed, facing him, with only her right fingertips touching the covers. Her body is small and spritely but it's graced by just the right amount of curves. He feels himself harden as those piercing green eyes hold his gaze and won't let go. And somewhere off on the periphery of his mind, it starts to seep in that this is his wife standing before him.

_Why is he just standing there?_ Meredith thinks to herself as she tries to hold herself still. If someone had told her she would be standing entirely naked in her husband's bedchamber letting his gaze soak her up, she would have told them they were crazy. But she likes the way he looks at her. She had spent ten years living in close quarters with two men, but they might as well have been boys compared to Derek. His body is all lean and muscle, bronzed by the sun and an active life. His eyes burn into hers, sparking a fire deep within.

_**So I wanna move you around.**_

_**Got to turn you inside out.**_

_**Yeah, I wanna move you,**_

_**I wanna move you around.**_

_**I wanna move you,**_

_**I wanna move you around. **_

Derek slowly walks up, his feet padding on the carpet but his hips swaggering just a bit. He has a devilish little grin on his face, like he knows something that Meredith doesn't know. She watches him walk up, keeping her back straight and her eyes directly on his. Derek comes within an inch of her, her nipples barely brushing his chest. Electricity crackles between them and the corners of her mouth curls up in anticipation.

Derek swipes his hand through her hair and she closes her eyes in satisfaction. She lets out a small breath of air when he steps closer. His other hand joins the other in encompassing her locks and she can't stop her body from sinking against his. Hardness meets softness. Her skin tingles where they touch. The only sound in the room their soft breathing and the intermittent crackle of the lamp.

_**So I wanna move you,**_

_**I wanna move you around.**_

_**I I I I wanna move you,**_

_**I wanna move you around.**_

_**I wanna move you,**_

_**I wanna move you around. **_

The next things she knows, his lips are all over hers, firm and passionate, as they slide over and over hers. She wraps her arms around his to hold on, her toes lifting off of the floor as his hands lift her up by her hair. Skin rubs against skin, lips meet and devour, and the spark spreads.

"Meredith." Derek utters gutterly, his voice so low it could have been gliding over sand-paper.

His hands glide lower along her back, his lips breaking free to rest among the heady scent of her hair. He hears her quickly draw in her breath as his hands cup around her derriere. He can only take so much though, so he lifts her up and deposits her on their bed. She clings to him, so he soon finds himself right where he belongs: pressed along her length. He feels intoxicated, his blood is on fire. How could one small woman spark this inferno?

_**Yeah yeah, you with your itinerary life,**_

_**you're nothing, nothing, never fine in the light.**_

_**alright**_

_**alright**_

_**The nights settling, settling in your bones,**_

_**you gotta celebrate your moments,**_

_**look into your soul,**_

_**you gotta give it a go. **_

As soon as his body reconnects with her, the banks fire up within and he can hardly stop himself. His mouth devours hers, instinct taking over to push their tongues together faster and faster. Her finely boned hands grab onto his face and beg him to get closer. If he doesn't get closer soon, he's likely to explode.

"Derek." Her voice says low and urgent.

_**I wanna move you,**_

_**I wanna move you around.**_

_**I I I I wanna move you**_

_**I wanna move you around.**_

_**I I I I wanna kick off your boots,**_

_**give up the fight,**_

_**summon the night,**_

_**sick and tired of super light.**_

_**You gotta kick off your boots,**_

_**give up the fight,**_

_**summon the night,**_

_**sick and tired of super light.**_

_**It's all out, all out on me,**_

_**it's all out, all out on me,**_

_**yeah, it's real,**_

_**yeah yeah, it's real. **_

Meredith can't summon words to say what she wants, but he seems to understand anyway. With a couple of quick movements, he is suddenly inside of her, and they both sigh with relief. Their bodies twine together like two pieces of kindling, sending the sparks and fire whirling up into a burning crescendo. Meredith wraps her legs around him, instinctually trying to pull him even closer. She feels as if he's touching the very core of her. And that's when it happens. A hot wind from within throws the fire in all directions, sending the burn to the ends of her body. Sweat drips off of his hairline as she arches into him one last time. And the last thing she remembers is Derek crying, "Oh God" before she is wisked off into deep surrender.


	9. Chapter 9

_Suggested Soundtrack: 'The secret life of daydreams' by Jean-Yves Thibaudet (Pride and Prejudice soundtrack) _

Meredith wakes up to a silent cabin. The only sound is the steady breathing of her husband lying flat on his stomach with his head pressed firmly into his pillow. Her husband. His curls are in wide disarray, sticking out in all directions over his sleeping form. She has a sudden urge to swipe the hair off of his face, but she doesn't want to wake him. It must be later than she thought though because she can hear lots of men moving around up top. It must be the time of the shift change. That means Derek should be getting up, but she doesn't have the heart to wake him.

They didn't exactly get much sleep last night. After their first initial bout of love-making, they had both fallen into an exhausted sleep. Maybe it was the strangeness of sleeping in a bed with a man, or a left-over tingling energy, but she had awakened only a couple of hours later to find Derek similarly awake and staring at the ceiling.

"_Hey." She says as she puts her hand out to rub it across his chest._

_The sound of her voice gets his attention and he stops looking at the ceiling to give her a soft crinkly smile. "Hey." He answers back, whatever that was bothering him disappearing as he focuses on her._

"_What are you?" She asks hesitantly. "I mean, is something wrong?"_

"_No, everything's great." He says as his eyes take on a warm glow that she is starting to learn that is meant for her and her alone. _

_She doesn't believe him. There is obviously something bothering him, but he doesn't want to share it with her. They haven't even been married for a day yet, so she leaves it alone. For now._

_And then she soon forgets that anything is wrong at all, because he starts licking her ear and molding her body to his, and all is forgotten in the heady sensations of their bodies moving together._

She is broken out of her reverie by Derek saying sleepily, "What are you thinking about?"

She looks over to see that he has pushed his arms up under his pillow and is staring at her with sleep-lidded eyes.

"You." She answers with a little happy giggle and turns her body over to face his.

"Me?" He asks in a faux-surprised manner. And in a more suggestive town, "What about me?"

"About how cute you look with your bed hair." She says as she playfully puts a few strands between her fingers.

He smiles back at her, but disbelievingly comments, "You were thinking about my hair?"

"And assorted other things." She offers with another little giggle.

"Come here, you." He orders and puts his arm out to pull her to him.

She gladly complies, her head laying in the cradle of his arm as she feels his morning erection rubbing up against her hip.

"Someone's up this morning." Meredith jokes double-entendre style as her fingers reach out to rub across his eyebrow.

"I'm always up for you." He parries back as he takes her fingers in his hand and starts nibbling on them.

Meredith giggles a little bit at the ticking feeling and curls up even closer to him. He starts placing little kisses along her cheek, but she feels like being obstinate, and says, "Don't you have a ship to run or something?"

"What ship? I don't know what you're talking about." He says as he continues to place kisses all over her face, starting at her cheeks and then making his way onto to her nose and across both eyelids.

"The…." Is all she gets out though, when there is a knock on the door.

"Yes?!" Derek calls out in his best Captainy what-the-hell-do-you-want voice and falls back on his pillow.

He doesn't get an answer though. The door just opens with Christina walking in carrying a tray with a pot of hot chocolate and two mugs on it. She still has boy clothes on (that's all she wears) but this time her hair is completely down and she is obviously a woman.

At the same time, Derek yells "What the hell?" and tries to cover himself with a blanket while Meredith tries to stifle her laughter.

"What? Didn't you miss me?" Christina offers snarkily as she sits down on Meredith's side of the bed and places the tray in her lap.

Derek is having none of this though. He flips off the other side of the bed, pulling the blanket with him.

"What are you doing here?" Meredith asks as she tries to curb her laughter.

"I brought your chocolate." Christina says like it is the most natural thing in the world. "I'm picking up Alex's duties for the day.

Derek pulls some pants out of a drawer, and tries to pull them on under the blanket, "Why? Where's Alex?"

He's not entirely successful with his attempts at modesy though, because Meredith and Christina are afforded a very nice view of his ass. Christina looks at it assessingly before silently telling Meredith with her eyes that she picked a good one.

With her voice though, she says, "Last time I checked he was sleeping off his loss at Dominoe's."

"You guys played Dominoe's without me?" Meredith laments.

"You should have your friends over here." Derek says as he does up his pants. As he's walking over to them, he grudgingly says, "So I take it Alex is no longer with us?" And then when he gets a closer look at Christina, "Christ, you're a woman too?"

Meredith tries to stifle another giggle and Christina just smiles a Cheshire smile. "Derek, this is my best friend, Christina. Christina, you know Derek."

Both of them kind of stare at each other, not quite knowing what to do. Derek looks a little flummoxed, to tell the truth. But then his better manners assert themselves, and he steps back into a flourishing bow and says, "The densest man in the universe, at your service."

"Well, at least he knows his place." Christina retorts as she pours herself a cup of hot chocolate and takes a sip.

"And now you take my hot chocolate?!" Derek gripes as he takes a linen shirt and tosses it over his head.

"Don't you have a ship to run or something?" Christina quips back like she doesn't have a care in the world.

"You can have mine." Meredith offers to Derek as she lies there on the bed with a sheet wrapped around her.

"That's okay." Derek says with a quick kiss to her forehead. "I do have to go upstairs. But do have your friends over. I don't mind."

Meredith smiles a grateful smile at him. Derek smiles back, but comments right before he exits the door, "It's not like I can stop them anyway!"

* * *

"That was really mean, Christina." Meredith censors with a suppressed giggle. 

"What? It would've gotten cold." Christina remarks non-chalantly. "And you were up, so…"

Meredith just rolls her eyes.

"Hey, at least I knocked." Christina qualifies.

Meredith just rolls her eyes again.

"So really. Why are you here?" Meredith queries with a sigh.

"You know you're only wearing a sheet, right?" Christina comments while taking another sip of her chocolate.

"Christina!" Meredith emphasizes, calling her on her avoidance of the question.

"Alright, alright." Christina acquiesces. "Do you want some chocolate, or not?" She says in a resigned manner.

Meredith doesn't really feel like it this morning though, so she just shakes her head no. Christina puts the tray on the bed-side table and retakes her position on the side of the bed.

"You didn't set the signal." Christina comments without being able to look at Meredith.

"No, I didn't." Meredith says softly, imbuing her statement with meaning.

Christina stares at her friend, picking up the undertones in her voice.

* * *

Derek doesn't see their faces; he only picks up the words. He has just finished putting on his socks and was walking out the front door, his boots in hand, when he realizes that he doen't have his shoe polish. He is half-way back to the room when he hears:

_"You didn't set the signal."_

Signal? What signal?

Then follows the softly worded statement _"No, I didn't."_ And he knows that she was supposed to set some sort of signal last night. The happy pink clouds that he have been floating his eye-lids dissipate in a cold shower. Was she going to set another trap? Was she going to leave him? He is suddenly reminded that she tricked him into marrying her. That she and all of her friends are nothing more than a crew of charlatans. He is suddenly more guarded than before, placing a metaphorical guard around any burgeoning feelings he might have been feeling.

He turns around and slips out as quietly as he came in.

* * *

"You really like him, don't you?" Christina asks, all of her bravado and nonchalance disappearing at her friend's face.

"Yeah." Meredith answers truthfully, looking down at the sheets covering her naked body.

A moment of silence goes by as they both think of the implications of her admission. But then Christina jumps up, and says, "Well, that's probably a good thing since you're going to be married to him for the rest of your life."

Meredith smiles at her friends quip, and then zings back one of her own. "Not if you keep barging in here every morning. Now, could you shut up and help me with my gown?"

"Are you trying to be all girly or something?" Christina queries as she turns around to let Meredith get up from the bed. Ever since Christina has known Meredith, bar that first night or a special mission, Meredith has worn boy's clothes too.

"I don't know. Derek seems to like it." Meredith responds flippantly as she heads over to her clothes from yesterday. But then yells out, "Darnit!"

"What?" Christina says as she whirls around, ready to vanquish any foe that dared to come into the room.

"I left my chemise by the fireplace." Meredith says with a fiery blush.

"Oh, you are so going to tell!" Christina voices as she heads out the door to get it.

But for some reason, Meredith doesn't feel like she can share what happened last night. She doesn't even know how to explain it to herself. Maybe some things are better kept between and man and a wife? "There's nothing to tell." She answers serenely as she follows Christina out the door.

* * *

Signal? She was supposed to have set a signal? And she didn't? What did it mean?

His first images of her holding a pistol to his head flashes through his mind. The cold way she had called his bluff. The way she had sat all through dinner knowing that she was drugging him. But he had felt her hands shaking when they had gotten married. She couldn't have faked that, could she? And the angry way that she had told him the story of her life was definitely not fake. And last night. She couldn't have faked last night. There was just no way. He knew when a woman responded to him. And she had responded to him. Hell, they had responded to each other. There were times last night where he really had had no idea where she had ended and he had begun. The entire night whirred together in his mind as a blur of skin and feeling and green. The green of her eyes burning into his as he moved within her. There was no faking that. There just wasn't.

But she was supposed to have set a signal last night. And she hadn't. Just what did it mean? If Christina wasn't in his room right now, he would just ask her. But then, wait a minute, what if it was another trap? A tiny squeeze of his heart makes him realize just how much she has already affected him. After last night, he didn't think he could take another betrayal. Maybe she was going to tell him, she just hadn't had time with Christina barging in on them like that. Yes, that was it. The tight band that had formed around his heart when he had heard those words lessens a few degrees. He was definitely going to get someone to put a lock on that door. His crew wouldn't dare come in his inner sanctum without his permission, but these people obviously had no concept of the word 'privacy'.

He walks across the main deck of the ship, boots in one hand, and deep in thought. It's not until he reaches the stairs leading up to the main deck that he notices the abrupt change in weather. When they had gone back to the cabin last night, the sky had been clear and the wind calm. Today the sky reflected his mood; grey clouds spread out over the entire sky, turning the entire ocean into a sea of grey-blue. The wind had picked up too, sending sprays of white foam up against the ship and whipping his hair around so that that he has to blink to keep the hair out of his eyes. He may need a hat today.

He darts up the stairs to find Tyler manning the wheel. He sits down on the same bench that Meredith had sat on last night. He smiles at the memory of her in that nightgown with his jacket thrown over her shoulders. Had she come out to set the signal? Maybe she hadn't expected him to be up here? Gah! He was going to drive himself crazy thinking about it. The next time they were alone, he would ask her about it. But right now he had a ship to run.

He puts on his boots and asks, "Where's Mooney?"

"I told him I'd take over until you got here." Tyler says with his back to him. The other man's voice is neutral, but he can hear the wheels turning around in the other man's head. He knows why Tyler is out here.

"I had to marry her." He says as he finishes tying up his boots.

"Had to and wanted to are two very different things. She duped you into her bed. You didn't have to honor that." Tyler argues as he slowly turns the wheel this way and that.

"It's" Derek begins, but then doesn't know what to say after that. He is an honorable guy, but Tyler is right. He could have very well put her on her way and the gentleman's code wouldn't have been dented a bit. "It's just that I've never met anyone like her." Derek admits as he walks to stand next to Tyler.

They both stare out at the sea as Tyler to turns to ask, "And this is a good thing?"

"I think so." Derek says with a pensive look, but then after he thinks about it for a second, smiles a bit and says, "Yeah."

"That's all I needed to know." Tyler says with a grin of his own. A grin that says that he is happy for his friend. That he was worried about him.

Derek takes the wheel and Tyler goes to walk below. But then Derek calls out behind him, "Hey Tyler, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure." Tyler responds like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"I need you to find out just how married I am. Make sure the marriage certificate is real."

Tyler looks at his friend assessingly and sees the vulnerability there. Derek may be the Captain of this ship and the confidante of a Governor, but he was still a man.

"Consider it done."

"Oh and one more thing."

Tyler only waits patiently.

"You have my permission to find out as much as you can about just why my wife wanted to marry me."

Tyler nods once, and Derek knows that Tyler will make it his own personal crusade. Derek turns back to the sea, setting his gaze out over the grey-blue sky and prays that Tyler won't find anything incriminating. If he's honest with himself, he doesn't know if he could let go of those green eyes even if he does.


	10. Chapter 10

_**So this chapter introduces some more of the dynamics between the crew and a game-changing event at the end. I've got one more chapter before I'm all caught up with the banked updates. If I get some comments, I'll put it up ;-)**  
_

_Recommended Soundtrack: 'A thousand pieces' by The Editors_

_**  
My heart has burst into a thousand pieces tonight**_

_**London hides her starry night**_

_**She covers them all up with light**_

_**My heart has burst into a thousand pieces tonight**_

_**Please would you watch over me if I sleep**_

_**Pull me from the safety zone when I'm weak**_

Izzie stands in the galley of the ship, her hands outstretched over a griddle strategically placed on a wood-burning stove. She has an all-ecompassing apron that covers her entire front, but from the back you can see she's wearing a full dress of potent pink with lace-capped sleeves and a bell skirt. Her honey-blonde hair has been tied up regally into a bun with two corkscrew curls perfectly formed on both sides of her face. She expertly flips a half-dozen pancakes over the hot griddle while setting out a stack of plates.

Alex is the first one to come in, yawning and silently taking a seat at the open counter in front of Izzie. He has on his patent dark brown breeches and linen shirt. Izzie word-lessely drops a stack of pancakes on a plate, coats it with maple syrup, and slides it in front of him. She looks at him wordlessely, just for a moment trying to figure out if he's as okay as he portends to be. But then turns back to the griddle before he can look up and discover her staring at him.

He takes a huge bite, and then moans appreciately, "Mmm, blueberries, my favorite."

Izzie knew that. She figured he deserved a little pampering after his ordeal. She wouldn't let him see that though. "The blueberries were going to go bad." She says with a shrug of her shoulders.

Alex takes another huge bite, relishes the taste of Izzie's cooking, and then looks up at her costume. "Got tired of the boy pants?" He asks in a manner that suggests that he could care less, but it's something to talk about. He couldn't actually let it out that he thought she looked beautiful in whatever she wore. She wouldn't like that, nope, not at all.

She's about to respond, when Mark walks in wearing what would be considered subdued for him. His waistcoat only has little hand-sewn golden bees on a bed of ivory. The coat is even a dull brown. Definitely subdued. No lace, no embroidery, and the fabric is even a boring cotton. He walks over to the counter and grabs a pancake with his hand, folds it up into a half-circle and takes a hungry bite.

"Mmm, blueberries." He says before he notices the two of them staring at him.

"What?" He asks defensively.

"Bees?" Alex asks his voice full of condescension. This is an age old argument that they have though. Alex is always deriding Mark's flamboyant wardrobe and Mark is very good at ignoring Alex.

"It's the only thing that would go with this worn out dull thing." Mark answers as he looks despairingly at the plain and unadorned coat.

"I think they're cute." Izzie interjects as she piles up a few more pancakes onto Mark's plate.

"Thanks darling." Mark says with a kiss to Izzie's cheek. "See, someone appreciates my efforts to remain above the fray."

Izzie blushes, but Mark doesn't seem to notice. He just grabs the now-full plate, and tosses over his shoulder as he leaves, "I'm going to head over to the other boat. Don't wait up!"

_**Imagine how a father feels to witness his son in a fight**_

_**Imagine how a father feels to witness his son in a fight**_

_**London hides her starry night**_

_**She covers them all up with light**_

"Why do you let him do that to you?" Alex queries as he watches her watch Mark walk out the door.

"Do what?" Izzie asks as she pretends to wipe down the spot where Mark's plate just sat.

"You know." He remarks as he watches her toss plates into the sink and wipe off counter space.

"No, I don't know or I wouldn't be asking you what I let him do to me, now would I?" She demands with a frustrated sigh. She still won't look at him though.

"Whatever." If she can't see it, he's not going to point it out to her.

"No, no whatever. What do I let him do to me?" She demands as she finally faces him and haughtily places both fists on her hips.

"You know, ignore you." He tosses out.

"He doesn't ignore me." She says with narrowed eyes.

Alex just snorts.

"How does he ignore me?"

"You really want to know?" He says as he shoves the forgotten breakfast away from him.

"Spill it." She demands.

"He's not dense. He knows exactly what you're doing." He finally says.

She unblinkingly stares back at him, but he can see the thoughts whirring around in her head. "I'm not doing anything." She finally says.

Alex just stares at her. He knows that she's lying. And he let's her know that he knows she's lying by crossing his arms and just waiting for her to speak.

"Okay, fine. What am I doing?" She accepts huffily.

Alex raises an eyebrow at her.

"Alright, I've been laying out an Izzie buffet." She says with a sigh and goes back to cleaning.

"An Izzie buffet?" Alex snorts and then bowls over cackling.

"Don't laugh, okay? It's not funny!" She remarks when he starts laughing even harder. Her lips start to twitch though.

He can't stop laughing though, so she punches him in the arm. "Quit it!"

"Okay, okay." He says as he calms down.

When Izzie sees that he's back to normal, she asks "How do you know he knows?"

"I just know, okay? I'm a guy."

Izzie just raises an eyebrow at him.

"Because when you're not looking, he looks like a drowning man."

"What do you mean?"

"Mark isn't ready to get married, but when you've got the ahem buffet spread out before you, it's hard not to take a nibble, if you know what I mean?"

"Oh." Izzie says with defeat.

_**My heart has burst into a thousand pieces tonight**_

_**Please would you watch over me if I sleep**_

_**Pull me from the safety zone when I'm weak**_

_**Please would you watch over me if I sleep**_

_**Pull me from the safety zone when I'm weak**_

She doesn't ask why he knows this. She's too absorbed in her Mark-campaign that she doesn't notice the way his eyes follow her from task to task.

"Thanks, Alex." She finally says, a defeated sound to her voice.

"No problem." He says gruffly as he pushes away from the table.

She holds up a full stack of pancakes to him though, and says, "Can you take these to George? He needs to eat something."

"Sure." He says. He can't look at the disappointed look on her face, so he takes the plate and slinks out of the room. If he had bothered to look around, he might have seen the even sadder look she wore as he passed out of the galley. The person that she really wanted was Alex. But he had made it very clear that he didn't want to have anything to do with her either. She sighs and goes back to cleaning.

_**I made my place at this table**_

_**I'll pass the tears if I'm able**_

_**Don't pick up the pieces**_

_**Don't pick up the pieces**_

_**Don't pick up the pieces**_

_**Don't pick up the pieces**_

* * *

Izzie is worried. She has been so caught up in cleaning and getting the ship back into order after the big mission show-down that she hadn't realized that George hadn't come down for lunch. Breakfast had been kind of late in the day, so she had shrugged it off. Dinner had come and gone though and still no George. She locks up the galley, having put away all of the supplies and scrubbed every surface until it shined. Mark and Christina still weren't back from the other ship, so she doesn't think there is going to be any cards tonight. That's alright with her though. After that talk with Alex, she's been a little on edge all day. Stupid men and their stupid need to be helpful or something, she thinks as she stomps her way up the main staircase. 

She walks up the galley steps and onto the main deck, surprised to be bombarded by heavy stinging drops of rain and a very gusty wind. She holds the covered plate of food for George closer to her body and turns around to take the long way through the ship. She's grimy and dirty from her day of cleaning already, but by the time she had walked across the main deck, she would have been soaked. Just one more thing she didn't need. She walks through the gun room, hardly noticing the unused cannons that are tied securely in the middle of the room. Their skills lay in their use of theatrics and words. They'd all learned how to shoot the deadly guns, but shooting and actually hitting something were two entirely different things.

She can hear George's brothers snoring far before she reaches the hallway in front of their room. That was why her room was on the other side of the ship. She didn't know how the other men got any sleep with those two around. It was amazing to her how such skinny men could make such atrocious sounds in theor sleep. And let's not forget about the farting. Oh God, the farting. She'll hold her nose in front of their door, just in case. That must mean Alex was manning the wheel. He wasn't going to be a happy camper steering the ship all night in this weather. She should go up there later and at least keep him company for a little bit. She needed to change out of this dress first though. It was good at making her feel pretty, but it certainly wasn't comfortable.

As she approaches George's door, she can already see that the morning pancakes lay untouched in a cold heap out side George's door. Did Alex just leave them there? God, she was going to kill him! Did George even know they were out there? Had George been moping about Meredith all day and just decided not to eat? Men and their stupid feelings, she grumbles as she kicks the pancakes aside and opens George's door a crack.

"George, are you in there?" She calls softly, in case he is sleeping.

No answer. The lights are off, and she doesn't hear any sounds, so she starts to close the door. But then she hears a moan. A moan? George better not be playing with himself. She'd had enough to deal with, she didn't need to walk in on her friend playing with his little friend, so to speak. But then he moans again and it doesn't sound like anything sexual. It sounds almost…like he was in pain.

She drops the plate of food on a side-table and walks up to George's bed. The first thing she notices is that the room is really cold. Like arctic. She walks over to the grate and sees only a cold bed of ashes. The fire's obviously been out for a long time. More than just today.

"George? Are you okay?" She asks as she sidles up to his bed.

There are no lights on in the room, but she can see him tossing his face back and forth on the mattress. And then he lets out one of those disturbing moans again. She quickly lights a lamp, nervously fumbling with the matches as she lights the wick. She's almost afraid at what she'll find when she illuminates her friend's features. It had been twelve long years, but she had heard those moans before.

The lamp finally lights. The dull light revealing her basest of fears: her best friend lays unconscious in the grips of a high fever. His face is flushed and beads of sweat grace his brows. He is still wearing his clothes from last night as if he had just crawled into bed and fallen asleep where he lay. The clothes are all wrinkled and in disarray around his body, as if he has been rolling around in them all day. Maybe if she can get some of these clothes off of him, it'll make him feel a little better. She goes to remove his encompassing linen shirt, but then sucks in her breath at the site before her eyes. A very prominent rash spreads out along his torso and arms, inching forward up his neck. She's seen this rash before. She knows exactly what it means. It is what killed her only family, her husband and new-born baby, eleven years before. It was smallpox.


	11. Chapter 11

**This is officially the last of the banked updates! Which mean it shall probably be a few days, if not a week, between chapters. Thank you for all of your wonderful comments! They truly make my day!**

Derek has a headache. No, not just a headache. More like a mondo crushing of his skull from all of the thoughts circling around in his head. You throw on the bad weather he had had to navigate in all day, and his brain felt about two sizes too big for his head. The wind had only gotten worse from this morning, churning the sea up into a mass of writhing and undulating waves. It was nothing to make him believe they were in any kind of danger, but the constant pressure of having to navigate between the swells had definitely taken its toll.

It didn't help that the constant business also kept him from seeing how Meredith was. The friend was still there, and had been all day, so he couldn't have asked her about the signal anyway. He would have just liked to have sat at a meal with her and watched the expressions wander over her face. Oh God, he is so far gone. He wipes his wet hand through his wet hair with the excuse of clearing away the hat-hair but really it is an act of frustration. To top it all off, he had just realized this morning that he somehow still had to save Richard's daughter from that Burke character. He had woken up from a deep sleep, stunned to discover that he had forgotten all about it. His chance at being the Governor of Tortuga was probably shot to hell at this point, but he still couldn't let his friend down.

Derek stumbles into his cabin, only to discover that his evening is yet to be over. The friend is still here, along with that other character who had pretended to be Meredith's father. Meredith is sitting at the seat of the dining table that has her back to the door, but the other two look up when he walks in. They are all holding cards in their hands and a pile of money languishes in the middle of the table. The faux-father stands up as he enters and Meredith whips around.

"Derek! Are you alright?!" She exclaims as she stands up and rushes over to help him with his jacket.

He's too wet and tired to do anything else but moan as she slides the coat off of his shoulders. She throws the soggy coat over the back of the settee and he wanders over to the front of the settee to get rid of his boots. He sighs as his tired limbs sink into the cushions. His fingers fumble over the lacings on his boots, until they are shoved aside by a pair of nimble dry hands. He looks up to find a pair of amused green eyes staring back at him from her perch on the fire-grate.

"Did you have fun being Lord of the Ocean?" She asks with an amused little glint to her eye.

He'll never admit it, but he does get the biggest kick out of days like this. He might be tired and his whole body might ache, but you can't beat the feel of the wheel underneath your hands as you maneuver your tiny vessel through swell after swell. And somehow she knows this.

"Maybe." He answers with a small upturn of his lips.

"I could have brought you a dry coat, you know." She answers back as she deftly slides the first boot off.

He sighs as the tight leather is released from his aching feet. She would have brought him a coat? Hmm…there was more to this wife thing than he thought. He wonders what other things this wife might do for him.

"But then you wouldn't have been able to take it off of me." He says with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

Someone behind him clears their throat and he is reminded that they are not alone. He looks up to find the friend still staring at her cards from the same spot at the table. It must have been her. The other man has also regained his seat and is doing a good job of ignoring whatever is going on over the fireplace. He's being rude. He did say she could have her friends over. She plops the last boot off of his foot, and he places a quick suggestive kiss on her lips before standing up to greet his guests.

"I don't think we've officially met yet." He says as he holds out his hand to the other man.

The other man takes in his friendly manner, and returns it with a firm handshake. "Mark Sloan." The man says with an amused chuckle.

Now that he has a closer look, the man definitely doesn't look old enough to be Meredith's father. Maybe it had been the wig. "The wig was a nice touch. Although you don't look as old as you did. How's that?"

He asks as he walks around to the remaining empty seat and discovers a covered plate filled with left-over's from dinner. Did Meredith save this for him? The thought gives him a warm little glow somewhere deep in his chest. She re-takes her seat and smiles at him a little bit before taking up her own cards.

"Make-up." Mark says happily as he takes another sip of a drink that Derek hadn't seen. Okay, now they were drinking his liquor?

But wait a minute. "Make-up? Seriously?" He asks.

"You gonna pony up or are you just going to sit there?" Christina asks him as she discards, totally interrupting the conversation.

"What are you playing?" He asks non-commitally as he shoves fork-full's of food into his mouth. Mmm, this tastes good. He must have been hungrier than he thought.

"Poker." Christina remarks flatly, "You in?"

"What are we playing for?" He asks in interest. Usually when he comes back to his cabin, he catches up on a book or writes a letter to his family. All solitary interests. He thought he was going to have a very lonely trip to England. Fraternizing with the crew is generally frowned upon. Suddenly a game of cards sounds like just the thing.

"Just pence, nothing big." Meredith says as she rubs her foot up the side of his leg.

Yes, this could definitely be fun. "I've got a better idea. Whoever has the lowest hand each play has to tell a truth about themselves. Something they've never told anyone."

The entire table is silent while they contemplate his offer. Maybe he can knock off two birds with one stone. He sees the little triumphant looks they pass back and forth to each other. They must play a lot. He guesses they've never heard the story of how he won his property in Tortuga though: in a poker game.

* * *

"Well, that's no fair. You could tell us you like Limburger cheese, for all we know." Christina comments morosely. 

"Okay, then loser has to answer a question of the winner." Derek interjects like he just thought of it. He would have liked to have said that first, but thought it might be a tad too suspicious.

"What if we don't want to answer?" Meredith interjects.

Silence, and then Mark offers, "Then you have to take off a piece of clothing."

Derek smiles at that. A man after his own heart. But that would mean Mark would get to see his wife naked. Hmm. Well, he'd put a stop to it before it got to that point.

"Sure." He says as he leans back in his chair and assesses the table. Christina is staring at Mark like he's the biggest dork she has ever met. Mark is smirking back at her. Meredith is peaking up at him over her cards with a speculative gleam in her eye. He returns the gleam and tickles her leg with his sock-encased toe.

"Fine, but only if the newlyweds stop playing footsy. I'd like to keep my dinner down." Christina offers as she starts gathering the cards together.

"Don't be jealous, Buttercup." Mark interjects in his usual sangfroid manner.

That only makes him and Meredith laugh. Christina does not. She just drops the deck down in front of him and says, "Draw manwhore."

"Only because you made me." Mark says with a wink and takes one.

Christina gives a long suffering sigh and offers the deck to Meredith. Meredith takes a card, but not without rubbing her foot against Christina's leg. "Oh, you are so going to get it for that." Christina promises Meredith before putting the deck in front of him. He takes one, Christina takes one, and they toss them down to see who deals first. He's got the ace of hearts. Excellent. He'll go first.

He purposefully retains middle of the road cards the first couple of hands just to see how everyone reacts. Mark wins the first game and Christina loses, prompting Mark to ask, "Is it true that your father is Jewish?" "Yes." Is all the answer he gets and they go on to the next round. Funny enough, he actually wins one and has to ask Mark a question.

"Do you really like to wear bees?" He asks.

"No." Mark answers back with an appreciative little grin that tells him he was right on that score. The other two women look back and forth between them, but he's not about to give away his suspicions.

He doesn't want anyone to become suspicious of the game, so he purposefully loses the next hand. Christina has to ask him a question. She stares at him speculatively, and he almost spits out his drink when she asks, "When was the best night of sex you've ever had?"

He chokes a little and hears Meredith hiss, "Christina" as she kicks her friend underneath the table.

"Yesterday." He answers truthfully.

Meredith blushes, but Christina interjects, "You have to tell the truth."

"I think he is Buttercup." Mark answers for him as he looks back and forth between him and Meredith.

"Would you quit with the Buttercup!" Christina hisses.

"Why don't you deal the next hand Buttercup?" Meredith quips to her friend.

Christina glares but picks up the cards anyway. This time Meredith wins and Christina has to answer. "Who's the last person you slept with?" Meredith asks with a little cat-like gleam to her eye.

If he didn't know any better, he would think Mark had just sat up a little straighter in his chair. But Christina only impassively removes her jacket and places it on the back of the chair while all the while daring Meredith to say anything.

He rethinks his strategy of winning. This could be more interesting to just let them answer the questions! Meredith just smirks at Christina. She wins again. But this time, Mark loses.

"Who was the last person you slept with?" Meredith asks Mark smugly.

Mark's only response is to remove HIS jacket and place it on the back of HIS chair. Derek is trying so hard not to laugh that his lips hurt from clenching them shut. The tables are turned the next hand though when Mark wins and Meredith loses.

"Why Derek?" Mark asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms as if in a verbal touché.

With narrowed eyes, Meredith reaches down and removes her right garter. She holds it above her head and flicks it away in obvious challenge.

Derek decides that Mark has done him a favor, so he decides to do him one. He wins the next hand and as predicted, Christina loses. She stares at him, daring him to ask his question. He can't help smiling smugly as he asks, "When was the best night of sex you've ever had?"

Her eyes widen perceptively, but then all expression fades from her face as she gathers up the cards and throws out, "Yesterday."

Everyone at the table starts laughing uproariously. As Christina deals, Mark suddenly asks across the table, "So, Derek, done anything with the property on Tortuga yet?"

Derek looks up to see Mark staring at him speculatively with a knowing grin on his face.

"You were there?" He asks with some surprise.

"In a round-about way." Mark says with a secretive smile.

They all pick up their cards and he smiles at his assessingly. He throws what he has away just to see what Mark will do.

"Nothing yet. I haven't had the time." He answers as the play comes out as he suspected: Mark wins and Meredith loses again.

Mark pauses and then asks again, "Why Derek?"

Meredith looks between the two of them again, a suspicious frown starting to mar her brow. She pulls off the other legging and throws that down too.

Meredith picks up the cards in a terse manner. While she's doling them out, he asks Mark, "Would you mind telling me what the round-about refers to?"

"You'll have to beat me at a hand to find that out." Mark answers as the winning cards come to Derek's hands. Meredith loses again.

He turns to her and asks again, "Why me?"

She stubbornly obliges him by standing up and taking off her dress. She isn't wearing a corset, so all she's left with is her chemise. Mark very appropriately keeps his eyes on his cards. Derek can tell that Mark is getting just as much amusement out of the evening as he is though.

Just for the hell of it, Derek throws the next game Christina's way. Meredith loses again. She sighs into her chair thinking that her friend will be kind to her. But she is left indignant when Christina opens her mouth and says, "Yeah, Buttercup, why Derek?" With emphasis on the buttercup part.

Meredith glares at her friend. She scoots back her chair and he is pretty sure about to flash everybody, when the outer door to his cabin goes flying open and Tyler comes in sopping wet. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Sir, but we just got an urgent message from the other ship. They've got smallpox aboard."

* * *

"What?!" Meredith cries as she drops her chemise and whirls to face the door. Mark chokes on his drink. Christina freezes in the act of gathering cards. Derek slowly thinks of the implications. 

The room goes deathly quiet. All is frozen as Tyler looks to Derek. He receives a tiny nod to continue, and he does with, "The other ship just signaled. The priest came down with it this morning. What would you like me to do?"

"George?!" Meredith cries from her perched position, a delayed reaction, and immediately starts grabbing her clothes and throwing them on. "We have to go over there!"

No one else at the table moves. Derek, Christina, and Mark all sit there in a state of shock, Christina stuck in the motion of gathering the cards and Mark with his drink on his lips. Derek is the first to respond.

"How bad is it?" He asks Tyler, his brain moving but his body slow to react.

"We don't know yet sir. Do you want me to have the crew checked for symptoms?" Tyler asks from his position next to the door.

"He didn't have much contact with the crew, but check all the same." Derek responds briskly. Tyler gives a nod and is back out the door. The sound of rain still pounding the ship echoes into the room, but then the door shuts and it is gone.

Meredith has managed to put her dress back on, but is having trouble with the stockings. Her hands shake as the expensive silk refuses to make its way over her toes. George has smallpox. He could die. Oh my God. She has to go over there. She has to see if he's alright.

"Meredith, what are you doing?" She hears someone ask. The words seem far away though, too far away to dent her rising panic.

She keeps trying to get the garter on her leg, finally pulling it over her toes and up her leg. Strong arms grab her from behind and pull her up against them.

"Meredith, you can't go over there." The strong arms say. Derek. Yes, it's her husband. Derek.

"I have to go. It's George." She throws back as she shakes her shoulders out of his grasp.

"Meredith, we can't go over there." Christina says from her place at the table. The cards have been left where they lay and Christina just sits in her seat with a scared look on her face. Mark tries to grab her hand but Christina smacks it away.

"But it's George." Meredith insists.

"I know." Christina responds with a gulp and wills Meredith with her eyes to understand.

Why is everyone just sitting here? They have to go help him. The hands grab onto her shoulders again and turn her around. She is met with two concerned but adamant pair of blue eyes. "We can't go over there." He says again, holding her still so that she has to look at him.

"I have to go. Don't you understand?" She pleads as her eyes involuntarily fill up with water.

"If you go over there, you could get it too, if you already don't have it. Is that what you want?" Derek asks with a bit of forcefulness.

"You don't understand. George is my family." She tries again.

Derek is quiet for a few moments and then says something she wasn't expecting to hear. "Meredith, you're my family now too."

She looks into his eyes to find something she wasn't quite prepared to see. He cares about her. He really means it. She's his family. The revelation burns its way down her chest. She doesn't know what to do with the knowledge. She still has another family to think about first though. The people that have been her family for the past ten years. She can't just abandon them because of her new status as Derek's wife.

She stiffens her resolve, and says, "You can't stop me from going over there."

Something flares in his eyes, and he says, "Yes, I can."

That stops her for a second. Who did he think he was? "Just watch me." She promises as she twists out of his grasp and starts huffing toward the door.

Strong arms grab her from behind, and she is tossed unceremoniously into the air. She never quite realized how strong he was until she is effortlessly tossed up onto his shoulder. It takes her a second to get her breath back. But when she does, she starts pounding on his back and kicking with her legs.

"Let me down!" She demands as he twirls around to address the two occupants of the room that she had completely forgotten about.

"Mark, Christina, you can take Meredith's old rooms." He offers and then without a backward glance carries her into their bedroom and locks the door.

* * *

_Suggested Soundtrack: 'Volcano' by Damien Rice_

She continues to pound on his back as he crosses the room. Her hands suddenly find nothing to pound on though when she is tossed onto the bed. She lets out a little 'hmph' as her backside meets the bed, but other than that she is fine. She blinks for a couple of seconds, and then looks up into the angry face of her captor.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" He demands angrily, his breath a little labored from his efforts at carrying her.

"No! I am trying to help my friend! Why can't you see that?"

_**Don't hold yourself like that**_

_**You'll hurt your knees**_

_**I kissed your mouth and back**_

_**But that's all I need**_

_**Don't build your world around volcanoes melt you down**_

He doesn't see that. His face looks angry and closed. He's not going to let her go over there.

"And why can't you see that I can't let you go over there? You're my wife! Do you know what that means?" Derek answers with a ferocity that makes Meredith look up at him.

What does that mean? She has no idea. They've only been married for two days. Only known each other for three. What could that possibly mean to him? She's been living on her own for ten years now, and she's not about to let some guy tell her what to do. Just because they signed a piece of paper doesn't mean he has a right to tell her what to do.

"What does it mean? That you can just tell me what to do whenever you want? I'm not some wilting wallflower that will just take whatever you want to dish out!" She counters back with equal ferocity.

"No, it means you're my wife! A wife I'm supposed to protect! A wife I'm supposed to keep safe!" He counters as he starts to pace in front of her.

No one had ever needed to keep her safe before. What did being safe even mean? She had been kept safe from the truth of her real parentage for eighteen years and look where that had gotten her.

"I don't need you to keep me safe!" She counters right back, rigid with indignation.

"Well, apparently I do! I don't call running off to expose yourself to smallpox a smart decision on your part."

She sees red. He doesn't get it. He just doesn't get it! "And what do you even care? You only married me because I tricked you into it!"

_**What I am to you is not real**_

_**What I am to you you do not need**_

_**What I am to you is not what you mean to me**_

_**You give me miles and miles of mountains**_

_**And I'll ask for the sea**_

She doesn't really mean it, but something makes her say the words anyway. Something in the way he had told her that she was his family makes her want to know more. Her greedy little heart yearns for someone to care for her, but it won't let her believe that someone actually could either. She has been burned by too many people that were supposed to be her family, but never were in the real sense of the word. Parental obligation had never made her mother love her or her father acknowledge her.

Her words seem to strike an arrow straight into Derek's spine. He stands up straighter and his eyes burn into hers. "I did not marry you because of that sham of a play! No one would have blamed me one iota if I had tossed your ass overboard for a stunt like that." He yells with a rigid finger pointed straight at her.

Her whole body freezes up in surprise. He hadn't married her because of the stunt? Then just why had he? "Then why did you?" She asks in a much softer tone. What were they fighting about again?

Derek must pick up on the change in her voice, because the finger drops and he moves his hands to rest deceptively on his hips. "That seems to be the question of the day, isn't it?" He asks as his eyes rest squarely on her green ones.

His eyes say he is asking her why she married HIM, but she can't tell him. He would hate her. Things were just so fragile right now. What would he do if she told him that she had married him to get back at her father? They were still only 3-4 days out of Tortuga. He could turn the boat around right now and push her off onto his unsuspecting family. He would get rid of her. She highly doubted the light in his eye when he told her that she was his family would remain if he knew the truth.

She squares her shoulders and answers calmly, "I can't tell you."

"You can't or you won't?" He clarifies with a sharp edge to his voice.

"Does it matter?" She answers in what comes out almost as a defeated voice.

_**And I'll ask for what I give to you**_

_**Is just what i'm going through**_

_**This is nothing new**_

_**No no just another phase of finding what I really need**_

_**Is what makes me bleed**_

_**And like a new disease she's still too young to treat**_

_**Volcanoes melt me down**_

Blue eyes assess hers for a moment and then slide away. Thankfully, he changes the subject. "Your friend has help. Isn't Alex over there? And the blonde?" He asks with a nervous swipe of his hair.

"But you don't understand. They are only on this trip because of me. If he gets sick…" She starts to say, but can't finish. Her throat starts to close up as she realizes that George dying might be her fault. It can't be her fault. It just can't.

The bed dips and those strong arms are suddenly around her again. All desire to pound her fists against his hard chest seems to have gone with their cold stalemate. She leans into the warm embrace, letting her face rest against his beating heart. Warm arms hold onto her tightly and hold her there. She can feel the stiffness in his back and his shoulders. Stiffness that she has put there. She knows that. Stiffness is nothing. Stiffness was better than hatred. Stiffness was better than nothing at all.


	12. Chapter 12

**These two stories may not seem to have much in common on the surface, but underneath they do. They are both women trying to overcome a past in order to have a future. Enjoy!**_  
_

_Suggested Soundtrack: 'To die for love' by Patrick Doyle (Sense and Sensibility soundtrack)_

Izzie's eyes feel heavy as she takes a moment to breath. George is finally quiet. He's resting in clean sheets and a clean nightgown that she had finally managed to get him in. At first, she had panicked. She had tried to wake him up: calling his name again and again to no avail. He couldn't be that sick if she could wake him up, right? Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe it was just a rash. Maybe it wasn't smallpox. Syphilis. It could be syphilis. You could get the same rash along the chest and hands. Yeah, that was it.

But you usually didn't get a blinding fever from syphilis. And George probably hadn't done anything to get syphilis anyway. For most of his life he had been training for the priesthood and then he had latched onto Meredith. Who knew blinding obsession could save you from a life of disfigurement and disease. Syphilis was something Alex was more likely to get, now that she thought about it.

She had tried wiping down his brow with the cold water in the room's washbowl, but the water had quickly turned tepid and dirty. She had made trips back and forth to the galley, hauling fresh water and clean cloths. But to no avail. He still twisted and turned, his head rocking back and forth like his body was trying to free itself from the grips of his fever. If at all possible, his fever continued to rise until it was almost too hot to touch him without the protective layer of cotton.

And then the nondescript rash had blossomed into the tell-tale sores, or pox, that made his disease only one thing: smallpox. As the night wore on, her pink bubbly dress was discarded for the serviceable brown rag she used to scrub the floors. She gets into a pattern of trying to tip fresh water down his throat. Most just dribbles away, falling away from his uncooperative mouth in a wet trail down his neck. His clothes soon become soaked with sweat and the beddings start to take on a foal odor. Somewhere near the end of her first candle, she decides that he needs fresh linens. She tears the sheets from her own bed and spends the next hour trying to move him around enough to clear off the old linens and replace them with the new. And once she's done that, she decides there's no use putting him in clean sheets if his clothes are soiled too.

George would probably die if he knew she was undressing him. When he made it through this, she would tell him she made Alex do it or something. But she didn't mind. George was her friend. George was her best friend. They could laugh and share things that she didn't even feel comfortable sharing with Meredith and Christina. George knew all about what had transpired between her and Alex. Izzie knew all about George's constant obsession with Meredith. They just knew these things. They were friends.

But he didn't know one thing about her. He didn't know that she had been married before. He didn't know that she had carried a baby almost full term, only to lose it from the shock of her own husband's death. Why couldn't she have been there with him? Why had she let him insist on going on that trip alone? Why had she let herself be carted off to her mothers while Denny made the trip to bring back her own mother-in-law? She knew why she had let him. She had been scared. Scared at what his high society upper Virginian family would say about their son marrying a backwater Carolina girl. Scared that her home-spun calico dresses and down-home roots wouldn't be enough for her blue-blooded in-laws. So she had let him go.

That had been the last time she had seen him. Proud and tall on a thoroughbred that looked vastly out of place on their little farm. He had jumped in the saddle, rushing off to tell his mother the happy news. His always ready grin and laughing eyes smiling down at her from his high perch.

"Don't you worry Isobel, momma's going to just love you." Denny had drawled from atop his horse.

His legs were already pushing along the stirrups in his haste to be gone and back. He didn't want to leave her in what he called her 'delicate state', but he thought it only right that his family know that he had found the love of his life. He didn't think it was right that his daughter should come into this world without his own parents knowing that he was married to the mother.

She had stood in the doorway watching him ride off like it was just like every other day of the week. If everything had gone right, he would have been back within a couple of weeks. But he hadn't. He hadn't been back at all. She later learned that he had shown up at his parent's house delirious and raving, barely able to hold his horse. He had never gotten to tell his parents how Isobel of the shining golden hair was the light of his life. He had never even gotten to write a letter to tell her that he had made it safely to his destination.

She remembers the day clearly that she had learned that her husband had died. She remembers it like it was yesterday. She could close her eyes at this minute and still see the strong sunlight shining in the open cabin door as she had helped her mother prepare Sunday dinner. The distant echo of a horse as someone had drawn closer to the homestead. She had thought it was Denny. Returned at last. She hadn't stopped to think that it would be more than a single horse if her mother-in-law had been in tow. She had just dropped everything that she was doing and ran into the yard. She could still hear her mother admonishing her to slow down, if at least for the baby's sake.

But it hadn't been Denny. It hadn't been anyone that she knew. Only a personal messenger who had approached the farm at a frenzied pace. He hadn't even dismounted when he pulled the letter out of his inner pocket and asked:

"_Are you Isobel Duquette?"_

"_Yes, sir." She answered simply, too stunned and out of sorts at the stranger's presence to come up with anything else._

"_Personal letter for you." He said as he hands over the missive and rides off._

_She stares at the letter in her hand, surprised and alarmed. It takes a lot of money to send a letter by personal messenger. Could it be from Denny? But the handwriting on the front isn't his. She would recognize his loopy scrawls anywhere. This was a more subdued and exacting dictation. _

_Her mother comes out of the house, drying her hands on her apron. "Who was that, Izzie?"_

"_I got a letter." She says absently, needlessly holding up the folded parchment._

"_That sweet boy probably misses you. Why don't you open it up?" _

_Izzie opens it up, but a cold dread has started to make its way up her fingers. She knows this letter doesn't contain anything good. She just knows it. She opens the letter and reads:_

_Dear Miss Stevens,_

_I write to you at a sad and trying time for my family. My only son, Reginald Donald Duquette, or as you may know him as 'Denny', died this morning from what can only be called smallpox. He arrived on our door after a many year absence delirious with fever, languished for a few short days, and gave up the struggle as the light peaked into his room at seven this morning. I only write to you because I found a copy of your marriage certificate in his right coat pocket when I was laying out his things. I regret to inform you, but we can not honor this contract. Reginald has been betrothed to a lady of considerable quality since he was in the cradle, and it would not in our best interests to break that. I do however offer a small token of our regard that I'm sure will help alleviate any bad feelings._

_Yours,_

_Lord and Lady Duquette_

The check had fluttered to the ground as Izzie had fainted. The sudden news depriving her of consciousness and her baby in one fell swoop. Why had she not insisted upon accompanying him? Why had she let him talk her into staying behind while he dealt with the unpleasant business? Could she have saved him if she had been there to take care of him? Well, she was here with George. She could do something about him. She wasn't going to let him die. She had decided on Mark because she had decided that she never wanted to be married to someone that she cared about any again. But lately she had wondered what it would have like to have had that daughter. Not one to replace the one she had lost, but a new one that would be her new beginning. She could never put her whole being back into a man, but she could certainly love a child. Her eyelids drop and she falls asleep. She is exhausted. She dreams of baby-white skin and tiny toes. And baby laugher. Lots and lots of baby laughter.

* * *

Derek lies abed; again awake in the middle of the night and staring at the ceiling. He doesn't know why he does it. It's not like the ceiling is going to tell him anything. The planked wood isn't going to magically form into words and tell him what to do. He honestly doesn't even see the ceiling when it's happening. He sees all of the events of the day, or in this case three days, flashing across his vision in a shortened summary of events. Tonight all of the events leading up to his wedding flash by in little snippets. Except it's no use, he still can't figure out what possible motivation she could have in marrying him. 

As a kid, he remembers lying awake at night, not being able to sleep because of the sounds coming from his mother's room. He dreamed of a bigger house with his own room that he didn't have to share with his four sisters. He dreamed that he had enough money so that he could wipe away the over-tired and brittle smile his mother wore after one of her 'customers' had left. He dreamed of riding those same ships that his father seemed to love so much. It didn't matter that those same ships were the same ones that had taken his father's life. Derek knew that his father was happiest when he was out sailing the seven seas. His dad was a mere mortal on land, but put him on a ship and he was king. His smile got bigger, he stood up straighter, he was a giant among men. Derek felt the same way.

To be honest, the only reason he had agreed to marry Richard's daughter was because of this ship. He enjoyed being the Governor's secretary. He was good at it. He liked doing a job where he knew he was making a difference. It paid him enough that he could support his mother and his sisters. He had a certain standing within the community. He got to meet lots of people. His boss was his good friend. And he was happy with that. Except, what he really wanted was a ship. He felt alive when he was on this ship. He felt alive on any ship.

Except it wasn't his ship. It never would be. All thanks to the little sprite fast asleep in her chemise all curled up against his side. He had made a split second decision and he had to live with it. He had been honest with her when he had told her that he could have very well tossed her overboard and no one would have been the wiser. Or thought any less of him. It wasn't even that she had called his bluff. He could have stopped it before the final words were spoken. It was something more fundamental. More primal. More of a connection. More of something he had felt deep within himself when he had first looked into those green orbs.

He felt alive when he was within her. When she was her most open and trusting and giving, he felt the same euphoria he felt at the helm of his ship. Her hands were the wind whipping through his hair. Her eyes the blue-green vista set before him that hid the pearly depths. His hands tingled as he wondered what new shoal or curve he would discover as they traveled over each new contour of her body. And just like the sea, she had her secrets. He sighs when he thinks of the look she had given him earlier when he had asked her whether she wouldn't or couldn't tell him why she had married him. It was almost like she had been pleading with him to not press. That he wouldn't like what she had to say. That he was better off not knowing.

"Are you counting?" She suddenly asks in the barest of whispers.

They had both fallen asleep in the act of comforting one another. Him holding her tight and trying not to think about what she wouldn't tell him. Her holding onto him with a fierceness he didn't know she possessed.

He hadn't known she was even awake. "Mhmph?" He asks in confusion, her words not making sense as his thoughts still whirl around in front of his eyes.

"Counting sheep? I sometimes do that when I can't sleep." She explains.

So she had noticed. "No, I was just thinking." He says as he turns his body toward her a little bit so that he can drink her in. Her eyes are still sleepy, but they are looking at him in a tender way he finds sooths his heart from the harsh words of earlier.

"Do you do that a lot?" She asks with a little quirk of her lips.

"Thinking?" He asks back with an amused half-laugh.

"No. Staring at the ceiling. You were doing that last night too. I was going to ask before, but then Christina barged in…and you can be kind of distracting…" She rambles off a bit, and then with a suppressed blush finishes with, "So is it something to do with me…or just…you know, just something that you do?"

She's so cute when she's rambling. He never thought rambling on a women was cute before, but her and rambling, definitely cute. But her question also makes him realize just how much they don't know about each other.

"Um…I guess it's just something I do when I have a lot on my mind." He answers with an absent scratch to his head.

"And you have a lot on your mind? Right now?" She asks with some hesitancy.

"Well, yeah." He says with an amused laugh that says it should obvious, since yes, he had been staring at the ceiling.

"Oh." Is all she says and lowers her eyes to the counterpane. She must think he's thinking about earlier. Which is kind of true and kind of not.

"You know that other woman I was supposed to be marrying?" He suddenly offers, not liking the sad look on her face that said she knew that it was her fault that he wasn't sleeping.

"Yeah." She says as she lifts her eyes to his.

"Well, this ship was supposed to be mine if I married her."

An indefinable look passes over her face, but then it is gone. It is almost like she knew that. How would she know that? Only a half-dozen people even knew that he was going to marry her. They didn't want to tip their hand to Burke and have him do something unpredictable. It just wasn't possible that she knew. He must be just seeing things.

"Is that why you…?" She asks, not quite able to finish the sentence, but he knows what she is asking anyway.

"Mostly." He answers vaguely. He can't tell her about the Governor thing and the Burke thing. That would be betraying a trust. Wouldn't it?

The silence stretches out as she absorbs the information. And then she says something that surprises him. "You know, it's not that I don't WANT to tell you."

She stares straight ahead, and he turns over without a word and waits for her to continue. She slides him a look and then continues staring forward as she says, "It's just that this thing I did…It's a thing that I've been planning for a long time."

She looks over at him to make sure that her words are sinking in, so he just nods and says, "Okay."

"And when I planned this thing, I guess I didn't really think it all the way through."

He must look really confused, because she continues with, "I mean, I did plan out a lot. I planned out every bit of everything until my eyes hurt. Until all of our eyes hurt."

It is in that moment that he realizes just how much she had put into everything. The need to know the why of it burns even stronger. But he waits.

"I talked to everyone that could possibly know you, I talked to people that had just heard of you, I found out the route you would be taking. I even went to a couple of your court days."

"You did?" He asks in surprise, as he tries to search his memory for any recollection of golden hair and green eyes.

"You wouldn't have recognized me." She offers with a little laugh as she realizes what he is doing.

He only raises and eyebrow at her, so she tells him proudly, "I was dressed as a leper."

He has to laugh at that. A leper! My God! Just who was this woman that he had married? "But…but why go through all of the trouble? I mean, what is it about me that made you…?" He says, but can only finish with a general flourishing of his hands meant to encompass everything that had happened.

She sighs. "Honestly, it didn't really have to do with you at all." She says as she stares off into the distance again.

Okay, now he's REALLY confused.

"This thing that I did. It's been a part of my life for a really long time. It was all that I could think about. It was my life." She tries to explain, her voice rising with each syllable. "And I planned it out for so long…"

Her voice trails on, fading into the darkness.

"And then it happened?" He asks, starting to understand where she is going with this.

"And then it happened." She agrees as she finally turns over to look straight into his eyes.

They stare at each other assessingly and then she offers, "But there was one thing that I didn't take account of."

He must look really confused, because she continues with, "You." And then after a few pauses says, "I didn't count on us. I didn't count on this thing between us."

So she feels it too?

"And I've never had this thing before…and I…and I just need some time. I need some time to know that this thing with us is real. I just…I just need some time."

Her eyes plead with him, and he is stuck mesmerized by the potent elixir of strength and vulnerability that he sees within him. She wants to tell him, but she's scared. From what he's gathered, she hasn't exactly had a lot of people in her life that she could trust. Time he has. Time he can give her. But he's not going to wait forever.


	13. Chapter 13

**This is a rather shortish chapter, but I'm going to let it stand as is. I was going to do another scene after it, but have since changed my mind. The next chapter will be opening up an entire new story arc. I rub my hands back in forth with glee just thinking about it! Read. Love. Review!**

Alex trudges down the back stairs to his room, totally exhausted and wrung out from trying to keep the ship running. With Christina, Mark, and Meredith on the other ship, George sick, and Izzie taking care of him, that left just Alex and the two O'Malley brothers manning things. If the seas stayed relatively calm, like they were now, they could handle it. But if a big storm or something broke, they were going to be in big trouble. He had been manning the ship for a straight twenty-four hours, and even now was just coming to check on Izzie and George before he headed back up.

He doesn't hear any sounds coming from the room, but that's nothing new. He had brought some breakfast down earlier, and placed it outside the door, but he could still see it moldering untouched where he left it.

He knocks on the door and calls out softly, "Iz?"

There's no response. He quietly turns the handle on the door and pokes his head in. A low candle burns dully in its holder, illuminating the sleeping pair. George lays still as death, the only indication that he is still alive a faint upward and downward movement of his chest. Izzie sits beside him, having dropped asleep in the chair next to his bed. Her head lies on her hands, curled up along the head of George's bed. She must have dropped where she lay.

This is the first time that Alex has come in here that George hasn't been flailing about and moaning. And it scares him. George and him might not be the best of buds. They've had their differences. But the dude was alright, you know. He couldn't pick up a woman worth a damn, but he was a part of their crew and that's all that mattered. He was way better than Sloan anyhows. George didn't go walking around trying to pretend he was someone that he wasn't. He didn't know what pissed him off the most: that Sloan had wormed his way onto this boat by sleeping with Christina or that he hid it and tried to pretend that he was interested in Izzie.

He walks up to the bed, trying to discern how George is without actually trying to touch him. His face looks kind of flushed but that was to be expected. He had that awful rash all over his arms and torso. If he made it, he'd be happy that he wasn't going to be pock-marked for the rest of his life. Alex shudders at the thought. He looks over at Izzie's angelic face, her hair wound up in a bun with little wisps of hair that had fallen out in her sleep. There are large rings underneath her eyes, attesting to her long night. But she still looks like an angel that has fallen out of the sky and laid to rest among them mere mortals.

"Denny, you don't have to go." She says in her sleep, a worried expression scrunching her eyebrows together.

She's having those dreams again. Well, there was nothing for it. He was going to have to touch George. He pulls in his breath and slowly puts his hand out to George's forehead. It was warm. Hm, that was surprising. Warm, not hot. He moves his hand around a little bit to make sure he's done it right.

"Alex, what are you doing?" George suddenly asks.

Alex jumps back and answers succinctly, "Dude, you've got smallpox."

George, without opening his eyes, thinks about this for a minute. "What happened to my clothes?"

If he was asking about his clothes, the dude was going to be alright. Alex breathes a sigh of relief.

"Izzie found you passed out in your room. She had me change your clothes." Alex answers. It was the least he could do to lie after Izzie went through all the risk of taking care of him.

"You saw me naked? Wait, Izzie's here?" George asks in embarrassment as he tries to move around. His body is too weak though, and all he can do is move his head back and forth a little bit.

"Dude, you had smallpox." Alex answers as if that explains everything. "And yeah, she's sleeping near your head.

Izzie takes that moment to call out in her sleep, "Denny, I'm coming with you. You don't have to do this alone."

Both George and Alex go quiet. They've both heard this dream many times. They would rather die than tell Izzie. If she didn't want to tell them about her dead husband, they weren't going to pry. But it was heart-breaking to listen to.

"How long have I been out?" George asks, still without opening his eyes.

"Since you still had your clothes on, I guess about 36 hours. Izzie came in to see why you hadn't had breakfast and found you like this."

"No one else is sick?" George asks.

"Not that I know of. Christina and Mark were over on the other boat at the time. We've been quarantined. It's just you, me, Izzie, and tweedle-dee, and tweedle-dum."

George doesn't remark on the disparagement of his brothers. Alex knows George agrees with his assessment. Their just wasn't anybody else they could trust and would do things without asking. So they stayed.

"Well, that's good. I guess." George answers and then is quiet. This entire time, he hasn't opened his eyes though.

"Is something wrong with your eyes?" Alex asks.

"Light hurts." George answers quickly. Alex should have known that. The same thing had happened to Alex when he had been inoculated as a kid. His mother was a mid-wife and insisted that all of her boys were protected. He had gotten a mild case of the disease, and his eyes had been sensitive for a while, but otherwise he had been fine. The only people that didn't get inoculated anymore were those of the religious nature, like George's dad. They thought it was some punishment from God, or something. Alex could think of a lot more worse things than smallpox.

"Denny, I am coming with you!" Izzie suddenly shouts.

Both men are silent. "You should probably put her in her room before she gets too loud." George offers quietly.

They both know that this is just the beginning. If they wake her up, she'll just go through it again, over and over again until it plays out. It's always the same thing: she always tells Denny that he doesn't have to go, then she says she's coming with him, then she gets the letter, then she cries, and then it's over. It breaks Alex's heart every time.

He bends down and picks her up out of the chair. "I'll come back and make you eat some soup." He tells George over his shoulder.

"You are not feeding me soup." George bites back defensively.

"Do you want me to wake up Izzie so she can do it?" Alex asks warningly.

"No." George responds sullenly.

"Well fine then!" Alex remarks just as sullenly as he tries to maneuver Izzie and himself through the open doorway.

He walks down the long hallway and through the gun room, to avoid getting teased by the O'Malley's. She mumbles all the way about the stupid letter and by the time he gets to her room she's crying. God, how he hates it when she cries. He's trying to jimmy the door knob open with the one hand and still keep her in his arms, when she suddenly sobs, "My baby! Where did my baby go?!"

Baby?! She's never mentioned a baby! He almost drops her. He manages to keep her in his arms, but just barely. He scoots her back into his arms and flips the door open. There are no sheets on her bed. Sigh. He puts her down in a chair, and is about to go get his, when she calls out, "Mark? Mark, will you give me another baby?"

What did she just say? Oh, hell no. There is no way that bee-wearing, under-handed, popinjay of a manwhore is getting anywhere near his Izzie. This is more serious than he thought. He's going to have to do something about this. He shuts the door behind him and starts to think. What would be the perfect way to get him out of the competition? An evil grin starts to spread across his face. What's the only way to get rid of a marriage-minded manwhore? Make him ineligible. Alex would cackle. If it didn't wake Izzie up, that is.


	14. Chapter 14

Meredith stands outside her old cabin door holding a tray of hot chocolate and clean cups. She puts her ear to the door and tries to make out what is happening inside. It doesn't matter that it is a heavy wooden door and that she is in her chemise. There are just some things a girl's got to do. The little cups and saucers chink around on the tray and she has to silence them by pushing them between her body and the door. She leans her ear firmly against the door and can finally hear low murmurs and splashing. Excellent. She'll catch them in the bath!

She opens the door a crack and hears Christina say, "It was the God-damned Buttercup thing, and you know it!"

This is followed by a deep chuckle that can only have come from Mark. "But I just couldn't help myself! You look all cute when you're disgruntled."

It's been a week and they're still arguing who gave away their secret liaison. Meredith was never going to tell. It was too much fun watching them bicker! Well, if she was going to catch them en flagrante delicto, it was now or never. She had been trying to get Christina back for the little stunt she had pulled last week, but to no avail. She had been trying every morning, but she just never seemed to be fast enough. She had even bungled in late one night faking some desperate girl talk with Christina, but no luck.

Well, now it wasn't morning. They had docked off the coast of Bermuda for some much needed shore time after the smallpox scare and some other needed supplies. The men had been on shore all day, but they were all headed back tonight for some special thing that Derek had planned. Derek refused to tell her what was going on. He had just exclaimed over morning chocolate (behind their locked bedroom door) that he was going to be gone all day and he needed her to stay below stairs until he got back. It riled her a bit that he wouldn't even tell her just one little bit what was going on, but he did it in such a cute puppy dog way that she had given in.

It wasn't like there was a whole lot to do on a ship in the middle of the ocean for weeks on end. Well, let her rephrase that. She knew what to do with her nights. As far as Meredith was concerned, Derek was the best husband ever in that department. She had no complaints. No siree. Meredith blushes just thinking about all the things they had done bundled up in those sheets. If anything, the spark that they had ignited the first time they had been together had seemed to have ignited and left them both enthralled. She had no time to think about father's or trick marriages or half sisters from the time the sun went down until it made it's way back up again. He was just that good. Or they were. Or something.

But from the time after the last dregs of the chocolate pot was empty (for that had become their special time to just be together, long after the passions had been spent), she was on her own. He was happy to have her join him on the top deck. He would sometimes come in and join her for lunch or she would bring it out to him, but there was always a ship to take care of. He had other duties, and she understood that. She had always been the one with those duties, or they had shared them, so she was bereft at what to do with herself these days.

This morning though, this morning she had woken up with an idea. Derek would never admit it, but she knew he still woke up in the middle of the night sometimes. She knew he was worried about the ship and what was going to happen to Richard's daughter now that he couldn't rescue her from this Burke character. He had eventually opened up and told her about what his original mission had been. How his mentor, a man he considered a second father, had entrusted him with this task. She could see it in his eyes that he had been hoping that if he shared something, it would make her feel more comfortable in sharing, but it only made it worse. So now it was going to be her word against that of his mentor's? Derek had told her all of the things that Webber had done for him. It just didn't make any sense to her. How could this be the same man that had thrown her out on the street? Would Derek even believe her if she told him what Webber had done to her and her family? She just didn't know.

She wasn't here to be maudlin over the state of her marriage though. She was here to get back at her friend that seemed to think she always had the upper hand of things. Meredith pulls in her breath and kicks the door open.

"Dammit." She swears under her breath when all she finds is Christina lying on the bed flipping through some book.

Christina looks up from her book and patronizingly says, "Awe, hot chocolate in bed again. You shouldn't have."

Meredith just grumbles as she walks up to the bed and puts the tray at Christina's feet.

"Is that you Meredith?" Mark calls out from behind a screen. That must have been the splashing noises she heard. They are all getting ready for whatever is happening tonight. All she knows is that she needs to dress like she would for dinner. That was it. There was only the one bathtub on board and Meredith had used it long ago. Now it was Mark's turn and she had overheard Mark promising to share his bath with Christina. She was sure that she should have been able to surprise them. She couldn't go above-board, so what else was she supposed to do to occupy her time?

"Yes, it's me." She says dejectedly.

"No luck again?" She hears called out in the doorway. She looks up to see Derek half-clothed in tight deer-skin breeches and a white linen shirt just thrown on with none of the buttons done up. He has his arms crossed and is leaning casually in the doorway laughing at her.

"You're back!" She cries as she darts up off the bed and walks over to stand in front of him. "Everything go okay?"

"Yep, everything's perfect." He says as he leans in to give her a kiss. It's meant to be a quick peck on the lips, but somehow it turns into a lot more. This seems to happen a lot with them. If they are in the same vicinity, inevitable someone will touch someone or someone will kiss someone. Sometimes, like now, it'll turn into a little more. A couple of times of times it turned into a lot more and they were not seen for a couple of hours. The crew was pretty used to it by now.

"Mmm, what's this?" They hear called out from behind the screen and the over-powering scent of a million blooming roses fills the air.

Christina jumps up from her perch on the bed and shouts as she walks over behind the screen, "You better not be using my…!"

This is then followed by a low chuckle and Mark saying, "It got you to come over and visit me, now didn't it?"

Derek looks at Meredith and they share a secret little laugh at their friends theatrics. "I think you were a little too early, honey."

"I think so." She says as she laughs up into his face.

She doesn't really care. With Derek looking at her like that all thoughts of hot chocolate and revenge just flies right out the window anyway.

But Derek, for once, pulls himself in and says with a twinkle, "You know, I have something to show you."

"Oh, you do now?" Meredith answers with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Yes, but it's not that my little hoyden." He answers with a little chuckle and then as an after-thought, "Although, I could show you that too."

Meredith gives him a death-stare but follows him down the hall anyway. "Does it have anything to do with why you won't let me go above-stairs?" She queries. He has been very careful in not letting her go anywhere near the main deck since they came into dinner last night. Christina and Mark were even up there helping earlier, but would they tell her what was going on? Noooo.

"Maybe." He says over his shoulder that she is sure is accompanied by a secretive little grin that he's been wearing for days now.

"Come on. I've been sitting around here bored all day while you've been off gallivanting. Can't you at least give me a little hint?"

"Well." He says as he stops in front of the cabin door and stops her from going any further. He smiles provocatively and says, "Only if you give me a kiss."

"I just gave you a kiss." She parries.

"But I want a better kiss." He vollies back.

"What would you consider a better kiss?"

That made him think for a second. And while he was doing that, she pushes past him and walks into the room. She gasps when she sees one of the most beautiful dresses she had ever seen lying over the back of the settee. She can't even describe what color it is. It's almost like the color of emeralds but lighter and more ethereal. The neckline scoops down in a square with a small edging of lace. The sleeves gather up tightly at the shoulder but then poof out at the elbow with yards of lace embellishment. The bodice is just a sea of patterned ribboning that accentuates the waistline.

Strong arms envelope her from behind and Derek asks softly, "So does that mean you like it?"

"Derek, I…I don't know what to say! It's…beautiful!"

"Good." He says as he pulls her up against him.

They both stand and just savor the moment for what it is: happiness. Meredith has to break the silence after a few moments to ask, "So is this the surprise you were talking about?"

"Among other things." He answers with a vague chuckle.

"What other things?" She asks suggestively as she turns around in his arms and looks up at him adoringly.

"Well, if you put the dress on, maybe you'll find out." He says with a glint to his eye. And then he's let her go to go change himself. Just what was that infernal man up to? Well, there was only one way to find out!

* * *

The new coat goes over his shoulders and falls heavily down his body. They are heading into colder waters. When he had seen the dress for Meredith in the shop window it had seemed only natural to get something new for himself. Everything he had was pretty straight-laced and fitting for the secretary of a Governor. He wanted to wear something special tonight, but he also didn't want to wear the outfit he had had specifically made for his marriage to Addison. For some reason the black fitted pants and long black fitted overcoat had called to him. With the white shirt underneath and high boots, he feels roguish. But Meredith kind of makes him feel like that, so he does up the cuff buttons and heads out.

He opens the door and comes to a complete stop. Meredith looks absolutely gorgeous. He really hadn't had any intention of buying any dresses or new clothes when he had gone ashore, but the dress had been in the shop window and he had had to have it. It wasn't the shape or the pattern. He didn't really care about those things. The snug fit and flares definitely did set off her finger. The reason that he had bought it though was because he was pretty sure it was the exact color of her eyes. And as she turns around, he sucks in his breath when he realizes that he had been absolutely correct.

"Hey." She calls out to him with a large smile.

"Hey." He says back unthinkingly until he realizes that he as been standing in the same spot for entirely too long of a time.

He takes a couple of quick steps forward and watches her eyes travel up his body in appreciation. He must have made the right choice then.

"You look beautiful." He says.

She blushes becomingly and says, "Well, so do you." Then she realizes what she has said and backtracks with, "I mean, you look handsome. Yes, handsome. That's what I meant."

He can't help teasing her a bit with, "What if I like being pretty? Why can't guys be pretty?"

"Well, if you want to be pretty, you can be pretty." She answers as she reaches up and pulls his collar down. "Although Mark might be a bit jealous. I think he's going for the role of prettiest male in these parts."

"He doesn't want to be pretty; he's just putting on an act." He says as he lets her breasts press up against him as she reaches around to straighten his collar in the back. Who knew there could be such enjoyment in such everyday things?

"What are you talking about?" She says as she straightens back up and he feels devoid of her close proximity.

What were they talking about again? Oh yeah. "All of that pansy boy lothario stuff is just an act. I don't know why he's doing it, but he is. But that's neither here nor there. You've got a surprise waiting for you outside, young lady and you better get to it." He says, smiling down at her.

"Not the other surprise?" She says saucily.

"Don't temp me, wench." He says with a teasing laugh and they walk out onto the main deck.

Meredith sucks in her breath at the transformation the ship has gone through since she left it last night. The ship has been scrubbed clean. Dozens of lanterns of all kinds: big ones, fat ones, small ones, stout English ones, flashy Arabian ones, and even a few of jewel tones, float around in every available spot. With the stars twinkling in the sky, they might as well be big fat fireflies that have forgotten how to blink. The moon is the only other orb reflected in the still waters. The lights from Bermuda glow in the distance, with the breeze occasionally blowing in the sounds of its rowdy residents.

The crew is setting up the last few items of a buffet along the left side of the ship. Barrels have been lined up and a large plank set atop them to hold all of the food. Mangoes, papayas, cheese, and breads fall over in large cascades. Large kettles of some kind of seafood stew are emitting smells that makes Meredith's mouth water. It smells suspiciously like her favorite: conch chowder. A band slowly sets up in the corner, blowing on their pipes and tuning up their strings in readiness.

"Derek? What…?" Meredith splutters as she tries to take it all in.

"So does that mean you like it?" Derek says with a chuckle.

"Like? But wha…?" Meredith splutters again as she can't quite pull together exactly what all of this means.

Derek takes pity on her and pulls her in close to him. "It's for you, Meredith. Well, for us. We never did really get a proper wedding breakfast."

Meredith's eyes start to well up. He did this for her. He bought her this dress, he had ordered his Chef to create this wonderful meal, and he had had the entire crew working all last night before they left for shore leave. For her. It's been a long time since someone has done something like that for her. In fact, she can't even remember the last time. It suddenly becomes a little hard to see with all of the water getting in the way of her vision.

"Are you crying?" He asks gently as she tries to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"Maybe." She responds vaguely, even though it is obvious from her sniffling that she is.

"This was supposed to make you happy." Derek says with a little chuckle. "But if parties and good food make you sad, I can send them all away."

"No." She responds with her own little chucking, realizing how ridiculous she's being. "This is wonderful! It's just that…you know…you didn't have to do this. It wasn't like you were a willing participant."

"Meredith, if I didn't want to marry you, I wouldn't have." Derek tells her with a look she is starting to realize is a look that Derek seems to only have for her. A dazzling warmth that makes her knees go weak every time. "Now, come on, let's enjoy our party."

She's never been happier in her life. He did this for her. Only her. She takes his hand and they are off.


	15. Chapter 15

**I am particularly proud of these next few updates. They bring to close what I would call part 'b' of this story. I've been leading up to this since the very beginning of the story and am very happy with how they came out. The first part is meant to be read like a dance. It starts out with one person and goes from person to person until they all come together in the end. The second and third section are inspired by a song called 'quicksand' by a band called Sleeping At Last. Read. Love. Review.**

The party is in full swing. The three-piece band made up of some antsy crew members has been playing away for hours. That hasn't slowed them down though. They've been fed copious amounts of rum that has yet to effect their rambunctious playing. Many many toasts have been sung to the happy couple. They couldn't do the regular putting to bed taunts but that didn't stop Derek from kissing Meredith soundly right in front of everyone anyway. Since the two ships were docked, all of the inhabitants of both crews were on board the 'bounty'. This was the first time that both ships could be together without a ship to worry about or bad feelings from plank walkings. Add in the vast relief from surviving a smallpox outbreak, and you had yourself one fabulous party.

Izzie has decided that she's had enough of this pussy-footing around stuff and was going to ask Mark to dance. Seeing George just lying there had reminded her that people could die at any moment. Her husband had died eleven years ago and it was about time she got over it. So she was going to ask Mark to dance. The only problem was that he had been talking to one person or another all night, flitting around from person to person before she could catch him. She wanted to ask him to dance, but she didn't want to do it in front of someone else if he was going to be rude about it or turn her down. Right now he was talking to Derek. She'd catch him before he went off somewhere else.

Alex watches everything unfold from his place against the wall behind her. He's been watching her all night following the man around like a little puppy. Well, not a puppy because she's been discreet. But he knows what she's doing. He wishes he didn't know! When he had thought it was some mild flirtation on her part, he hadn't really minded. The fact that the man didn't return her interest, or was just completely oblivious, had given him hope. But now that he knew how determined she was, this was an entirely different matter.

"Why don't you just tell her?" A placid oriental voice of his sometimes friend says behind him.

He looks behind him to see Christina resting on the wall beside him. Surprises of surprises, she is actually wearing a dress! A girly dress with pink roses on cream with little green leaves intertwining them all.

Alex chokes with laughter at the look on her face. She might as well be a fish without water with the way she's holding her body. Definitely not her cup of tea.

"It's for Meredith, spawn-of-the-devil." She remarks in a deadly cold voice. "If you keep laughing, I'll march right up to Izzie right this minute and tell her the real reason you turned her down."

That shuts him up. As they watch, mark once again steals away (this time to the punch table). Alex had wanted to talk to Christina about the 'problem' he was going to manufacture for Mark, but the look on Izzie's face makes him go off tearing after her instead. He's already told a few people anyway. Hopefully it'll be making the rounds soon.

Christina is left staring amusedly at Alex's backside as he disappears into the crowd. Meredith comes walking up on her right with two glasses of rum punch.

"Oh, thank God." Christina exclaims. Alcohol has suddenly become a lot dearer to her. If it wasn't for this being Meredith's wedding party, she would so be drunk right now.

"Are you done hiding now?" Meredith asks as she hands over the drink and takes a seat on the nearest barrel.

Christina downs the drink like she's been thirsting in the desert for days and says, "The stupid man wants to tell everyone!"

"What's wrong with that? I think you guys are cute." Meredith says with a chuckle.

Christina gives her a death stare. "What's wrong is that I would then be the skanky ex-friend who stole my friend's potential husband."

"You never know. Tricking the man who was supposed to have married my sister to get revenge on my father seems to have worked out well for me." Meredith responds with a dead-pan voice.

They both laugh, but then Christina asks soberly, "Have you told him yet?"

Meredith returns the questioning gaze of her friend with a sigh and says, "Not yet."

That's all Tyler needs to hear. He had been resting on the galley above, taking a quick moment out to reflect on his friend's good fortune. He had never seen Derek so happy. He had always been wary of the new Mrs. Shepherd though. A person had to have a very good reason to try and pull off a stunt like she did. And now he knows why. He watches for the pansy-wearing man to approach the two women and make a distraction and makes his way down the stairs to Derek.

They both sit quietly for a moment, and then Meredith asks, "I do want to get your help with something though."

"Shoot."

"You know how I told you about Derek needing to marry Addison to get her away from that Burke guy?"

"Yeah."

"What if we got her away from the Burke guy anyway? We do kind of owe him."

Christina raises an eyebrow gingerly. "Okay, I owe him." Meredith says with a sigh. "But you'll help me anyway?

"Sure I will." Christina agrees readily, but then her vision is distracted by the approach of Mark.

Mark ambles up to Christina. She's told him to stay away from her, but he's had a little too much Rum punch to pay that any heed. It's stupid for them to be hiding like this. He knows the blonde likes him, but hadn't he made it clear that he wasn't interested? If he and Christina were out in the open he wouldn't have to be side-stepping through the crowd like this to be avoiding one very determined marriage-minded woman anyway.

"Come on Buttercup, this is ridiculous. Just come dance with me." He says to the little spit-fire in the rose and cream colored dress.

Meredith sees the storm brewing between her two friends and decides that retreat is her best option. She hasn't gotten a chance to visit with George anyway. Derek had been keeping her at his side, but she had wanted to visit with her friends, and he had let her go. They could be alone together later anyway, she thinks with a lascivious smile.

George is seated in a little hammock that has been rigged to help him sit upright. He is on the mend, but still vastly tired from his ordeal. He's not resting though. He seems to be holding court with a local woman that Meredith has never seen before. She approaches slowly, wondering if she's interrupting something.

But George sees her and says, "Hey Meredith, this is Callie. Her brother's one of the musicians. Callie, my friend Meredith. Callie saw that my cup needed refilling and came over to say hi."

Now that Meredith looks closer, she can see that the punch has gone straight to George's head. Callie laughs at George's obvious inebriation and stands up. "I'm not sure if it was such a good idea now."

"Thanks for taking care of him." Meredith says truthfully. She still feels bad about what could have happened to George. Callie must sense that she wants to talk to George alone, because she goes to walk away, but not before saying, "Oh, congratulations on your wedding, Mrs. Shepherd."

Meredith smiles at the use of her married name. Meredith is off in la-la land thinking about their second wedding night, until she starts to hear what George is spouting off. "Yeah, Alex told me that Mark is celibate. Oh wait, no that's not it. Something to do with being ineligible or something."

But before Meredith can say anything, Izzie walks up and says, "Mark? Ineligible? Why?"

"S-s-s-omething to do with lazy swimmers. I don't know." George slurs, and then crouches forward as if wanting to tell a secret. His voice isn't very soft though when he says, "He can't get married."

Izzie's face goes white.

"How did you know?" Mark asks from not a few steps away. His face has turned white also. He had been chasing Christina's path across the dance floor to Meredith and over-heard the last loudly hissed remark.

"I was right?" Alex remarks as he comes into the fast-forming group.

"Right about what?" Christina asks. She has totally missed whatever had just happened.

"That my wife is a mercenary two-bit whore." Derek utters with contempt and loathing. The entire group goes still. Somehow Derek had snuck up on the group. All eyes had been on Mark when Derek had approached with Tyler in tow. Now all eyes are on Meredith.

Meredith turns to see Derek staring at her with such anger that she's surprised fire isn't coming out of his nostrils. "Your sister, Meredith? Your sister?"

Meredith's tries to clear her throat but her tongue won't move. This was the look she had been afraid of. This was why she hadn't told him. He hated her. She could see it in his face. His eyes shoot daggers at her and she is five years old all over again.

"Wait." Mark says in confusion. "Who's your sister?"

"Addison Forbes-Montgomery Webber. The woman Derek was supposed to marry." Izzie offers in a daze. It seemed like the cat was out of the bag. There was no use in hiding it anymore.

"But wait a minute, he couldn't have married her." Mark offers with a swivel of his head.

No one asks why, but all heads swivel in his direction.

"Because I'm married to her."

* * *

_**Recommended Soundtrack: 'Quicksand' by Sleeping At Last **_

_**There are wires in between  
Human heart and machine.  
I will wait for mountains  
To tell me you're okay**_

_**On paper my future will lay.  
Ill fold every failure into a crane.**_

His heart bleeds. The words that Tyler had poured into his ear had shot into his chest and opened up a hole where none had been before. He thought he was prepared for whatever Meredith might tell him, but he hadn't been quite prepared for that. He doesn't know what he expected her reason to be, but not that. Her father was Richard Webber. Addison was her sister. She wanted revenge. That's what all of this was about. She wanted revenge on her father.

The phrase tangle in his mind. She didn't want him. She never wanted him. She just wanted revenge.

It was one thing for a person to say that you wouldn't like what they were going to tell you. It was another thing to actually hear it.

Her eyes, opened wide in shock, stay frozenly connected with his. She doesn't deny it. He can see the truth in the stillness of her expression. He wants her to deny it. He wants her to jump up and slap him for his impertinence. He wants her to pull her pistols out and force him to take back his words. Where is her fire now? Where is the woman who bluffed her way onto his ship and into his bed? Why won't she deny it? But she doesn't.

_**Trust is quicksand,  
Claiming everything I have,  
All to give me life, all to give me life.**_

_**Slow down, hide your eyes!  
The sun is setting fire  
Through glass, branches deep.  
I cough only to breathe.**_

He barely hears the words that Mark utters, the meaning slow to sink in. Mark is married to Addison? How is that even possible? Does it even matter? He thinks not as he turns around and heads to his cabin. He can't look at those eyes that plead for him to understand. To understand what?

_"It's just that this thing I did…It's a thing that I've been planning for a long time."_

He was a tool. He was a cog. He was a means to an end. He was Richard's son-in-law. Her father. Her real father. Richard hadn't wanted anything to do with her, so she had hatched this plan. He could see it all perfectly laid out. Take the sister's husband. Take the sister's ship. The bile rises in his throat.

It doesn't matter that he can't reconcile the warm and caring man he had grown up with with the cold actions that would prompt this kind of action. This wasn't about what the man was actually like. This was how Meredith saw him.

_"I talked to everyone that could possibly know you, I talked to people that had just heard of you, I found out the route you would be taking. I even went to a couple of your court days."_

He had been kind of flattered that she had expended so much effort into securing his hand. He snorts at the thought. It had all been a part of her plan. This was something she had wanted for a very long time. He must have been a late addition. The plan to marry Addison had only been hatched a few months ago. He wonders how long a really long time is. A year? Five years? Ten?

_"Honestly, it didn't really have to do with you at all."_

But it does. It has everything to do with him. It has everything to do with them.

_**Trust is quicksand,  
Claiming everything I have,  
All to give me life, all to give me life.  
One thousand more to go,  
Ill send every prayer from below.  
I was swallowed by a whale.**_

He hears the sound of bone hitting bone and a sickening crunch. Followed soon after by the thud of someone's body hitting the hard wood of the ship, and an exclamation of, "God wench, you didn't have to break it!"

He wonders what part of Mark's anatomy Christina has broken. He wishes someone would punch him. Maybe the pain would distract him from the painful ache coming from his chest. Maybe this awful numbness would leave him. He feels quick movements of people milling behind him and someone grabs onto his arm. He grabs it away, not bothering to look at who it is. He knows who it is.

"Derek." She says in her most pleading voice.

He stops for a moment and turns to see if he'll see something different than before. A denial. Anything to stop the slow leeching of his heart. Her eyes scream for forgiveness. They plead with him to understand. Oh, he understands. He understands all right.

_**Slow down, you're all words  
And love is made of yarn.  
Scissors,  
A slip of the hand, a slip of the tongue;  
God knows I meant no harm, I meant no harm.**_

"I can't." He says.

He might as well have slapped her. Her face tenses up and she moves away. Not very far, but enough to put some distance between them.

I can't. I can't. I can't. The litany pours between them. He just can't right now. He needs some perspective. He needs to wrap his head around this. He needs to stop the bleeding.

"I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you." She says in a small voice.

I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you. The sentences pour into him. They run down the already bleeding stream of emptiness that was once his heart.

"But you didn't." He answers dazedly, not quite being able to look her in the eye. Anything not to look into those eyes.

_**In between every promise and lie there is a kiss.  
In between tempers and suitcases there is a kiss.**_

_**In between medicine and the sick there is a kiss.  
In between arrows, aim, and release, there is a kiss. **_

He feels her withdraw even more. Not a stepping back, almost a crunching together. It is fine with him, because he would rather be anywhere but here.

"Derek, I…" She pleads; her voice catching.

He finally looks at her. She looks sorry. She looks really sorry. Her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. A part of him wants to take her into his arms and rub those tears away. A part of him wants to hold her tight and never let go. But he can't. He just can't. The numbness won't let him.

"Just not right now, okay? Just…I need….just not right now." He says, barely able to suppress his own sobs.

She nods once, and he is free. The cabin door opens up behind him, and he is through it and the door closed before he even realizes it. The doorknob feels cold in his hand. His body slowly slides down against the hard wood, his legs crumpling at the foot of the door. His hands somehow find their way to his hair, and he sits with his head resting heavily on his knees. He just needs some perspective. He just needs some time to think about things. He needs….He needs….Meredith. A tear runs down his cheek. He lets the sobs flow. He is no longer numb. He is one giant ache. He is broken. He is bleeding.

* * *

Pounding. In his head. Definitely pounding. Wet. Something is wet. Oh, that's him. His face is wet with something sticky. He tries to move away from the wetness, only to decide that that is a very bad idea. If he moves his head, the pounding gets louder. So loud he thinks someone is literally pounding on his skull with a hammer. Oh wait, it is. From the inside.

He groans as he lifts his head off of the sticky surface that turns out to be his desk. Blearily, he notices the empty scotch decanter laid out on its side with a last few remaining drops drizzling onto the polished wood. His face hurts from lying against the hard surface. Just how long has he been lying here? A long time if the indentations on the left side of his face are any indication.

He remembers getting up from the door and grabbing the Scotch decanter. Anything to stem the ache threatening to consumer him. The first shot had burned his throat. The second had created a pooled warmth in his gut. The third had dulled the edges of his vision. The fourth had weighted his arms and legs down into the chair. The fifth he had almost spilled while trying to pour it into his glass. After that, he doesn't remember.

But no matter how much liquor he ingested, he couldn't wipe away those eyes. Those eyes that had entrapped him from the very beginning. The mix of strength and vulnerability that he had known was hiding things from him. The greenness that had pulled his body into hers. The depths that enthralled him but kept him at bay at the same time. Except in those rare moments when it had just been him and her and he knew that he was seeing the real Meredith. He had known that there was great pain there, but he had ignored it. He hadn't wanted to ruin what they had just as much as she hadn't. Then why did it hurt so much?

There's a letter on the desk. It sits propped against the other finished bottle of Scotch that he had apparently ingested before this one. No wonder his head hurt. No wait. That decanter had been almost empty, so he had grabbed this one. That was still a lot of Scotch though. Dammit, his head hurt.

Then he notices that it is his name written across the parchment in a decidedly feminine scrawl. Meredith. He grabs the letter in one fell swoop, but then has to hold his head to stop the room from spinning. It takes a few moments for the room to balance out. He opens the letter and at first the words seem all blurry. Then they come into focus.

_Derek,_

_By the time you read this letter I shall hopefully be long out to sea._

What? Out to sea? What is she talking about?

_I know you hate me._

She thinks he hates her? How could she think that? Did none of the time they spent together mean anything? He had been kind of mean last night. Oh God, he had called her a whore, hadn't he? He didn't mean it. It had just come out. One minute he's standing there enjoying his belated wedding party and the next minute Tyler is telling him the woman he loves is just using him for revenge. Oh God, he loves her.

It takes him a minute for the words to come back into focus again.

_You see, I love you._

Oh God.

_I knew that if I told you, that you would hate me._

But he didn't hate her. He had just needed some time. It had just been like a punch to the gut. Or the heart, to be more precise. He had just needed some time alone to get some perspective. To come to terms with things.

_And I wanted to hold onto the happiness that we had for as long as I could_.

He tears up for an entirely different reason.

_I can't take it back, and I know you'll never forgive me._

Oh Meredith, but I already have. I already have.

_So I've gone to make it right. We're going to rescue Addison from Burke and bring her back to Tortuga. No one knows that we were married except for your crew and mine. If you want me to, I'll tear up the marriage license and no one will be the wiser. You can marry Addison and take your place as Governor (yes, I know about that too). I won't get in your way._

But he didn't want Addison. He didn't care about being Governor. He wanted Meredith.

_Godspeed,_

_Meredith_

_p.s. You might want to let Mark out of my old cabin. It was the only thing I could think of to keep Christina from killing him. He may also need a doctor. His nose is broken in two places._

Derek stands up shakily from his chair, disbelief written all over his features. She's gone to England to rescue Addison? Doesn't she know what Burke is capable of? If she had known about his plans, than there's no telling who else knows. Including Burke. She could be walking right into a trap.

He flings the chair back and walks out onto deck. A good number of his men lay sprawled out sleeping off the after-effects of too much rum punch. He scrunches his eyes at the too-bright sun and groans at the lateness of the hour. How much of a head start did she have on them? They still had the rest of the provisions to load. His ship was faster, but that wouldn't matter if there was a storm or they hit dead winds or something of that nature.

"Everybody up!" He shouts as loud as he can.

The crew groans, but they slowly start to raise their heads and bodies off of the hard floor.

He picks his way through the bodies, and shouts 'Everybody up!" again when he reaches the first step leading to the top deck. This time men start rising and he can see them slowly shuffling off to their duties. Tyler is at the top of the steps. He takes a step back when he notices the fierce glint in Derek's eye.

"What's happening?" He asks.

"Meredith's gone to rescue Addison."

Tyler's eyes widen at the news. He knows what Burke is capable of. They all do.

"When do we set sail?" He asks, knowing by Derek's face what they are going to do.

"Preferably five minutes ago."


	16. Chapter 16

**I call this Chapter 'Burke Manor', for obvious reasons that will become apparent! I hope you are enjoying the story. If you have the time, please leave a comment. I'd really enjoy hearing from you!**

Meredith, Izzie, and Christina sit alone in a stilled carriage not talking. The shades have been drawn but a dull glow from a nearby streetlight shines underneath the edges of the shade. George sits atop the hired carriage keeping the horses muffled. He has a large greatcoat thrown around his shoulders and his hat pulled down low to obscure his features. The last thing they need is someone wondering why a strange carriage is sitting on a quiet street in an affluent neighborhood of London with three strangely dressed women inside: one dressed in boys clothing, one at the height of fashion, and the other as her companion.

The last three weeks have not been a pleasant couple of weeks for any of them. Izzie is not talking to Meredith or Christina. Christina because she stole Mark from right out from underneath her nose and didn't even tell her and Meredith because she had known and not told her. Christina has been fuming for being thwarted of getting revenge on Mark. She doesn't care about the married thing. The bitch wasn't here now, was she? Snooze you lose. But it would have been pertinent information to everyone involved that Addison was already married. Meredith didn't want to talk to anyone. Her heart was broken and there was nothing she could do about it. It was her fault. She had done this to herself. She had done this to him. To them.

There was this shiny little box full of Derek and Meredith memories that she pulled out from time to time, but only in her darkest moments and only when she needed the motivation to keep going. Maybe if she completed this mission she would sleep again at night. As it is, as soon as her eyelids close, Derek's cold stern look of hatred imprints itself on her eyelids. She had done that. Her. Her warped sense of need for revenge on a father she barely knew had captured the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with and then snatched him away right before her very eyes. She had to make it right. She just had to.

First she had to knock some sense into these two though. They all need to be together and talking of they were going to pull this thing off.

"Izzie, I didn't tell you because I only found out myself the night of the quarantine. Christina, you should have told her." Meredith says, breaking the silence with cold flashing eyes.

Izzie stares at Christina petulantly, crossing her arms underneath her breasts to emphasize her pique.

"I didn't take him from you." Christina says with an equally petulant tone. "I've known the scum-bag for forever. He owns that brothel on Lesser Tortuga. My mother and he are business associates. Have been for years. He's like a good trick pony: show him the apple and he'll do what you want. That's it. If you want anything more than that, you're wasting your time."

"And why didn't you tell me that!" Izzie practically hisses at Christina, arms still folded and furious.

"I didn't think you were serious!" Christina rails back defensively.

"I let him touch my butt, Christina. I let him." Izzie retorts back in a low voice, her finger pointed in emphasis.

The entire carriage is silent for a moment, as Izzie's words reverberate in the confined space. The first sputter comes from Meredith. A little bubble of a laugh also rises inadvertently from Izzie's throat and she covers her now-grinning face with her hand. Soon they are all laughing as quietly as they can, covering their mouths and rolling in their seats.

They don't even notice that the door to the carriage opens. Alex stands there bewildered at the trio of women who have barely been talking to each other now holding their sides and giggling like school girls. Women. He will never understand them. He pulls himself up into the carriage and they finally notice he is there and stop laughing. The only open seat is next to Izzie, so he slides up next to her and closes the door. They all look at him expectantly.

"The butler is Burke's. There's two men outside watching the house with plenty more where they came from."

"No one's at home?" Meredith asks, just to make sure. All of the lights are off except for the kitchen, but that didn't mean anything.

Alex sighs. "No, they're at Addison's betrothal party."

There is stunned silence, and then Christina clarifies with, "To Burke?"

Alex nods grimly.

"Oh great, now what are we going to do?" Izzie asks with a defeated sigh and rests her head against the side of the carriage.

"Well, Addison's technically engaged to Derek already." Alex muses.

"If he wasn't already married to Meredith." Christina adds.

"And she wasn't married to Mark." Izzie comments pointedly at Christina.

Alex's head spins at the undercurrents of the conversation, but he pushes that stuff aside to say, "Yeah, but nobody knows that."

All three women look at him. "Does Addison even know what the Captain looks like?" He offers as a plan starts to form in his mind.

He sees Meredith's eyes light up as she catches on to his meaning. "Do you still have your Lord of the Manner outfit?"

"It's back at the boat." He says with a wide conspiring grin. He loves this stuff. "I'll catch a hackney and meet you outside Burke manor in an hour."

He goes to throw himself back out of the carriage, when he's pulled from behind by his shirt. He looks back in time for Christina to ask, "Alex?"

His minds already far ahead on how fast he can get to the boat and back, but their bemused expressions bring him back. "Oh yeah, it's the biggest townhouse on Grosvenor Square. Dude knocked down TWO houses to put up his monstrosity."

All of the women continue to look at him, so he says "What? That's what the maid told me." He pulls his shirt out of Christina's grasp and hops down.

"Meredith? What's going on? What are we doing?" Izzie asks.

Meredith's face is lit up and for the first time in weeks she has a smile on her face. "We're going to crash a party." She says and the other two women smile along with her. They get it now. This evening just got a whole lot more interesting.

* * *

Derek winds his way through the crowd heading in to Burke manor. He has to physically restrain himself from pushing everyone out of his way and running up the massive porticoed entryway. Meredith is in there somewhere and he's dying to see her. To say the last three weeks has been difficult would be an understatement of massive proportions. He'd about killed someone when they'd hit a dead zone a couple of days outside of Bermuda. If it hadn't been for those couple of days, he could have caught up with them and gotten a planned hammered out. Now, as it was, he had no idea what they were up to. All he knew was that Alex had come back to the ship to change a sort time before he got there and to inform the O'Malley brothers that they had to make an unexpected detour at Burke manor. So here he was.

Derek scoffs at the idea of someone stuck up enough to name their townhouse a 'manor'. He had heard about Burke's proclivities for showing off, but Richard would laugh his head off if he saw this place. Ostentatious would be an understatement. It wasn't only that the house took up the space of two or more regular size townhouses. It was that the entire thing screamed, "Look at me!" The front entrance was a marvel of Palladian architecture with a big awning doorway that opened on both sides. Beyond the doorway was a foyer that rivaled even a few palaces. Marble spread along every available surface and up the two grand staircases and a giant chandelier dropped down from at least three stories up.

He shakes his head at the cost of it all. He could probably have a whole fleet of ships for the cost of that one chandelier. The man was only a bastard son of an Earl, but you wouldn't be able to tell from the residence. Only the accidental drowning of his younger and more legitimate, brother had given Burke the title. Everyone knew he was a bastard though. The only reason his house was packed to the rafters tonight was that he had the ear of an old and failing king.

Ah, the receiving line was over. That was good luck. He didn't have an invitation. Not that that would have stopped him anyway. He doubted Burke was even expecting him in the country so soon. The letter that he had sent to Addison clearly stated that duties would keep him in the Caribbean until the end of the summer. Burke was apparently trying to get a jump on him by having the wedding a done deal by the time Derek showed up. Just like Derek and Richard had planned. Sometimes people were just so predictable.

He takes one last look at his dandified outfit and starts to mount the staircase. He can hear the sounds of hundreds of people talking and milling about, but he only cares about one. Mark had lent him a peacock feather and flowery embroidered black velvet jacket, so he feels up to the challenge that he knew in his bones was coming tonight. Now all he had to do was find Meredith and hope whatever scheme they've thought up doesn't get them killed.

* * *

Meredith and Alex stand along the side of the ballroom surveying the scene. Alex has on ivory pants, under vest, and coat with a decorative silver and gold leaf pattern all over the vest and coat. There's even little etchings of leaves around the knees and cuffs with a hint of lace at the sleeves. Meredith complements him in a dull gold silk confection of her own that is startling in its simplicity. There are no ribbons and bows, only the sleek lines of the silk meeting around the square neckline and puffed long sleeves. A white ostrich-plumed headdress sits atop a regal white wig that sets off the outfit and helps her blend in with the rest of the ladies. Izzie's outfit is much plainer in a soft baby blue, as befitting a hired companion, but she is still fully corseted and wigged.

Everything is in perfect readiness, except that they've only just realized one thing: they have no idea what Addison looks like. They had thought she would somehow stick out in the crowd or that someone would point her out. But they had forgotten about the rigidity of the English caste system. They don't know anyone here and no one knows them. You couldn't just walk up to someone and introduce yourself. Someone had to do it for you. Luckily, the betrothal hadn't been announced yet. Then they would know. So they were dancing and talking until the announcement was made. Whenever that was going to be.

But for now Meredith stood with in all of her regal finery, sipping a glass of champagne and watching the dancers go round. The cool drink sent little bubbles of air down the back of her throat and up her nose, but she could still swear that she can smell Derek's cologne nearby. That's impossible though. It's probably just like every other night these past weeks where she had sworn she was sleeping enraptured in his arms, only to wake up to a bitter nothing. Now she was smelling him! She sighs heavily, but then quickly sucks her breath back in when she feels a man's hands resting familiarly on her hips.

She's about to turn around and smack him with her fan, when cool lips rest against her ear and whisper, "I love you too."

Meredith whirls around, only to be met with something she had never thought to see again: Derek smiling down at her with love in his eyes. Gone was any trace of the angry hostility that had been haunting her dreams. She must have known all along that he loved her, but she hadn't been able to identify the emotion in his eyes until she had been sure of the same sentiment within herself. She realizes now that he has loved her for quite a while now. Something within her shifts and all of the angst and guilt she has been holding within her dissipates and her shoulders rise as if a physical weight has been lifted off of her. He knows. He knows and he still loves her.

Derek watches as her face lights up as if a candle has been lit from the inside. She turns in place, and he lets his hands drop to his sides. They stand in place, mesmerized by the other but too caught up in the moment to take a step closer.

The spell is broken though, when Alex suddenly realizes who's standing next to him and spits out the champagne he had just been sipping.

"Karev." Derek says good-naturedly as the man continues to cough and pound the champagne out of the pipe it went down.

"Don't do that, man. You about gave me a heart attack." Alex says with a little residual coughing.

Derek can only smile like an idiot. He doesn't care. He had way too much fun doing that. Meredith was staring at him like she was the happiest woman in the entire world, and that made him feel about ten feet tall.

Izzie steps up next to him, behind Alex, and says, "I think we should dance Alex. Leave the two love birds alone."

Izzie had seen him coming, but he had silenced her with a smile and a finger to the lips. She had understood what he wanted to do and had taken a step back. Sometimes her friends could be helpful.

Alex doesn't really dance, but even he can see that it'd be more fun twirling Izzie around on the dance floor than to watch these two making googly eyes at each other.

"After you, doll-face." Alex says with a gesture toward the dance floor. Izzie glares at him, but she takes his hand anyway, and they join the dancers.

Leaving Meredith and Derek still staring at each other. The corners of Meredith's mouth lift up into an even bigger smile, and she says, "We can't talk here."

"Where can we talk?" He asks as his lips lift suggestively and damn if the man doesn't twinkle at her. She feels that twinkle all the way down to her nether regions, and then some.

She takes his arm, and silently starts leading him back out of the ballroom. She had seen an open library door down the hall. She just prayed that no one else was currently occupying the space. "This way, oh brother of mine." She tells him with a decided twinkle of her own.

Derek looks at her strangely for a second, and then a light bulb seems to go on. "I'm sorry I was so late in arriving, oh sister of mine." He mimics her. "I was on my way and the wind seemed to just go right out from under me."

With all of the people around them, they have to talk in code. It wouldn't be good for anyone, especially any of Burke's men, to overhear their conversation. The smile on Meredith's face dims a bit, and her brow furrows into a cute little crease.

"I wasn't sure if you were even coming." Meredith says. She wants to say she had no idea he was even on his way, but that would sound a bit weird.

Derek takes one look around the crowded ballroom, but can't see anyone that resembles the miniatures of Burke and Addison that Richard had shown him. He returns his attention to Meredith and catches on to the underlying tone of her words. He thinks carefully about what he's about to say as they exit the ballroom and make their way along the upper landing.

"You just surprised me, Meredith. I didn't mean…" Derek says as he looks around for the words to describe what he went through. "I just…reacted. I felt like someone had just punched me in the stomach. I felt…used."

Conversations and voices float past them as people pass by. Other couples stroll along the upper landing, not paying them much heed at all. Groups of the upper crust of London make their way up and down the regal twin staircases.

"I did use you, and I'm sorry." Meredith says as she looks down at the floor.

Derek sees the remorse and the guilt in the wounded way she hangs her head. He had known she was sorry. She had told him long before that night that she had been sorry. He had known it the entire time, but seeing the lengths that she had been willing to go to assuages his heart even more.

"I'm sorry too Meredith. I'm sorry for…calling you that. You tried to tell me…and I…I didn't listen."

Meredith's eyes fill up with tears, but she can't let them fall. It would look weird too to start crying in the middle of a ball. They smile at each other gently, and the air settles around them at peace. When they reach a spot where no one can overhear them, Meredith says, "There's a library behind those doors. I'm going to go to the ladies retiring room.. I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes."

* * *

Izzie and Alex glide along to the sounds of the waltz, twirling around the floor like it is something that they do every day. In fact, it has been many years since they have been in each other's arms. They both know the exact date. Nine years, nine months, and eighteen days. Izzie and George had joined Christina and Alex's crew a year before then, but they had always kept to themselves. They were all there to make a quick buck and then go on their merry way. But over time the lines between professionalism and friendship had blurred. They were so good at doing what they did; it turned from being a part time deal when the money ran low to a way of life. With the addition of Meredith and her ability to blend in and out of high society, they had hit pay dirt. They were soon together all of the time; a crew; living in and out of inns across the Caribbean as their fortunes dictated.

Alex had always liked Izzie. He thought she was a hot broad. She had this golden blonde hair that was like a golden hallow. He would have thought she was an angel the first time he saw her, except with a body like hers he definitely wanted to sin. Stacked in all the right places with curves to accentuate and define. But she always had this air around her that said don't get too close. He didn't know if it was the vulnerability he saw lurking in her eyes when she thought no one was looking or maybe just the way she never flirted with the opposite sex at all or shared anything about her past. All he knew was that he was intrigued.

He picked on her; he called her names, and even tried to tease that melancholy look from her eyes. But nothing he ever did dispel it completely or make her look at him in any other way than other than a brother. Exactly nine years, nine months, and nineteen days ago she finally had looked at him. Really looked at him. He didn't know what had prompted it. They had both gotten soaking wet from a torrential downpour that had been coming down for the past hour. They had both run back to their rooms, fresh from the triumph of their last caper. One minute they had both been laughing and filled with glee at another success, and the next they had been kissing and holding onto each other so tight he was surprised that he had still been able to breath.

The dance of the waltz reminds him of the way their bodies had danced that night. How their bodies had rolled together in a rhythm that every man and woman knew at heart. He leads her around the floor as he keeps his body upright and the proper distance from hers. She lets him lead, keeping her eyes averted and to the side. Once she had looked into his eyes as they had moved together. Once she had surrendered. Not the faux posturing that she pretends now, her body stiff and unyielding in his arms. Once he had dreams of maybe something a little more than a cheap coupling in a rented hotel room.

But then he had closed his eyes and all had gone to hell. He had been deep in slumber, holding her tight, when the first tremors had started. She had shook in his arms, winding her head back in forth at some unseen terror. And then she had said those words that had ended things forever: "I love you Denny. Please don't go. I want to come with you! Let me come with you!" And he had freaked. She was in love with another man? Is that why she had never looked to him as anything more than a brother? He had left straightaway, went to the other room, and locked himself in.

She must have wondered why he wasn't there the next morning. They never talked about what happened that night. He never told her what he knew, and she never asked him what had happened to him. For the next few weeks he got himself stinking drunk every night. He tried to wipe away those few hours with as much alcohol and women as he could get his hands on, but it was never enough. He made sure to indicate with his 'activities' that she knew that she was just one of many and was never alone with her again. Until now.

Gliding across the dance floor, they could be the only two people out there. Other couples twirl past but all he sees is the women he loves sparkling in a light blue confection and powdered wig. But she won't look at him. Through conversations with George, he had discovered that Denny was her dead husband. That had just made it worse. How was he supposed to compete with a dead man? But it had been ten years or more and Izzie seemed to be moving on. She wanted a child. She had wanted to marry Mark. Why hadn't she asked him? Darn it, why wouldn't she even look at him?

"If you wanted a baby, all you had to do was ask." He says gruffly.

Her eyes fly up and she almost trips over her own feet. That got her attention! He sweeps her up into his arms and takes her around the next turn.

When she can manage to speak again, she gets out, "Who…what….how did you…?" And then when she thinks about it some more, "I am going to kill George!"

"It wasn't him." He says a little more confidently. Saying the initial words had somehow given him confidence to say more. "You talk in your sleep."

"Alex Karev, are you saying that you have known this entire time?!" She blusters, so rigid in his arms that he's surprised that she hasn't broken free.

He softens a bit at the look on her face and says, "No, it was the morning that George's fever broke. I carried you back to your room."

"Oh." She says with sudden understanding. "I wasn't exactly sure how I had gotten there."

She stares off into space again, so he prods with, "So?"

"So what?" She asks, shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

"So do you want to have a baby or what?" He puts out bluntly.

She stares at him blankly for a moment and then glaringly answers, "Yes."

His heart grows two sizes in his chest, but he doesn't let her see that. All he says is "Good."

This time it is his turn to not look her in the eye. He can still hear her grumbling under her breath words like "self-conceited…" and he swears somewhere in there is the word "bastard", but he can't be sure. But he doesn't care. Izzie's going to have his baby. He hopes it's a girl with cornstalk colored hair and the kindest brown eyes he's ever seen (when they're not shooting daggers at him, that is). Just like her mother.

* * *

Meredith lifts the heavy door and pushes it in from the outside. She had made sure to primp and posture in front of the mirror for the entire 15 minutes. It had been surprisingly harder to do than she had thought. All she had wanted to do since he had whispered those words in her ear was to run into his arms. She was supposed to be his sister though, dangit. And they were at a ball! Where they were supposed to be rescuing the person that Derek was supposed to have married! He hadn't said one word about Addison though. Truthfully, she had completely forgotten about the reason that they were there until she had taken a couple of steps away from those potent blue eyes.

The door hadn't been closed when she had left Derek outside the entryway. He must have closed it. At least she hoped it was him. There are no lights on, so she can only see as far as the light from the hallway allows. She doesn't want anyone else to see her go in though, so she quickly closes the door behind her. She rests her hands against the back of the door, trying to get her bearings in the dark. Before she can even take two steps away from the door though, a familiar male body backs her up against said object and captures her lips with his.

She sighs with the rightness of it. God, she had missed those kisses. How could she have lived without these kisses? She doesn't want to find out. They are not soft kisses. They are hot kisses. They are urgent kisses. His hands hold her head upward, but his mouth moves across in fervent benediction. Her lips buzz with the attention, so it takes her a moment to realize his hands have moved downward and seem to be pulling up the many layers of her dress.

"Derek, what are you…?" She asks in between kisses.

He doesn't answer her. He drops her dress, pushes her fully up against the door and pushes into her with his body. She almost groans when he grinds himself against her and recaptures her mouth in a controlled frenzy that she has never seen him use before.

"I need you Meredith." He says breathily as he once again starts pulling her skirts up.

"But we're…" She tries to say they are at the ball, but he interrupts with, "I don't care. I've been frantic with worry for weeks now. I kept imagining you lost at sea, or locked in prison, or…."

He can't finish the last couple of words, but she can see the fear in his eyes. He continues to pull up her dress, folding it in between their bodies and pulling the fabric away in rapid movements. There's just a lot of fabric. "But I can take care of myself. I've…"

"It's not you Meredith. It's him." He says and then sighs when the last of the fabric has been pulled free. He presses against her to hold the fabric up between their bodies while he tries to unbuckle his pants. Meredith pants as he says, "He's the right-hand man of the King. He can do anything he wants, and does, and gets away with it. But the King is sick. Has been for years, and Burke is looking for a way out. He's made too many enemies here. He's got everything riding on this Governorship, and he will do anything to get it."

Meredith sucks in her breath when he grabs onto her hair again and repeats, "Anything! Do you get me, Meredith? Anything!"

A small lump forms in her throat as she realizes the full extent of her folly. His cool blue eyes burn into her; full of the love and the worry he has been holding in these many weeks. She brushes her hand through his curls and he sighs in relief. "It's going to be alright, Derek." She says reassuringly.

He doesn't seem to hear her though. He pulls down her drawers and lifts her up onto him, and they are suddenly together again. They both sigh with the satisfaction of becoming one again.

"I was so frantic, Meredith. Frantic!" He tells her as he holds onto her as tightly as he can and pushes himself into her over and over again.

She can't think of anything to say to that, the steady rhythm of their bodies and the overload of emotion making thought impossible. She loses herself in his frenzy, letting his urgency pull her on. Their breathing becomes erratic; minutes might as well be hours for all they notice. But as fast as the urgency came on, the build up is even faster. Sparks had already been flames by the time their lips touched, so the explosion comes as no surprise. Meredith holds on for dear life as her orgasm takes hold. Her body is pushed one more time into the sturdy oak door as Derek grunts into her shoulder.

"Don't ever leave me again, Meredith." Derek says through heavy pants.

"I won't, I promise." She answers just as equally winded.

And they both relax. Finally.


	17. Chapter 17

**I dub this chapter 'Escape from Burke Manor'. I consider this the adventure portion of the story. I couldn't resist adding a couple of mer/der moments though. Who can?**

Derek pulls his pant back up and buttons them absentmindedly. Just what had come over him? One minute he had been waiting for Meredith to come back in to discuss what they were going to do about Addison and the next he had had to have her. It's true that it had been a very long three weeks. And he had been scared out of his mind. But that didn't excuse him from attacking his wife in the library at a public ball. Or did it? He looks over at his wife and is happy to see that she's not fully recovered yet. She's dazedly trying to put her skirts to right, patting the fabric down in a half-hearted attempt. He gets kind of a primal satisfaction about being able to do that to her.

She catches him though. "Just what are you smiling about?" She asks with a knowing little grin.

"Nothing." He says with satisfied little grin while pulling his vest and jacket down. He hadn't even taken the dang jacket off! That makes him chuckle to himself. Then he sighs. Bad Derek. You need to stop thinking about it. Meredith is supposed to be your sister. He looks over at Meredith trying to put her hair and feathers back in order and snorts.

"So why are you supposed to be my sister again?" He asks, making sure to keep some distance between them. She looks so cute and rumply; if he gets any closer he may jump her again. And that would be bad. Why would that be bad? Oh yeah, Addison. He has to save Addison. Who's Addison again?

Meredith's mouth curls up into a little cunning smile. "Well, Burke can't be betrothed to Addison if she's already betrothed to you, now can he?"

He stops primping himself and just stares at his wife. His wife is a genius. He smoothes the wrinkles out of his pants and shirt and just stares. "You're a genius, you know that?"

She blushes. "Well, it wasn't exactly my idea. Alex thought of it."

"That's why he got to be me?" He asks with an amused little twinkle.

"Something like that." She says with an answering twinkle.

He pulls out his pocket watch and sees that it's almost five to midnight. They better get a move on. It's a thing most universally known, that all announcements at London balls must be made at the stroke of midnight. He has no idea why, it's just how it's always been done that way.

He makes one final adjustment on his costume and is ready to go. "You ready?" He asks.

She smiles at him gently, but as he watches her face turns grim. She squares her shoulders and takes his arm. It's time to go.

* * *

It's time to go. Addison sits grimly on the sofa in a room that she has come to despise. She couldn't even enjoy her own betrothal party. Well, not really her real betrothal party. Because she was technically betrothed to Derek Shepherd. Whom she had never met, but still. His miniature had been nice to look at. It rankled that she had to marry someone her father had picked out, but look what happened the last time she'd tried to go against her father. She sighs at the sad memory.

But that's neither here nor there. He's dead and he's been dead for a long time. By the time Derek shows up, Burke and her will have been to Scotland and back and the deed will have been done. There'll be nothing he can do. Her bags are packed and sitting in the carriage outside. It all seems so familiar. And yet this time she does not feel the heady exhilaration of romantic love and the secret exhilaration of defying her father. She doesn't love this man. She's only doing this for her mother.

Burke turns around from his perch along the fireplace and checks his watch. "It's time to go." He says coldly.

She looks at this man whom she hates; the man that is going to be her fake-betrothed in a few minutes. She vows to kill him if she gets the chance. He had threatened to do the same to her mother if she didn't do as he said. She thinks it's fitting. It's too bad she never learned how to fire a pistol. She rebels minutely by making him wait for her, but rises before he can say anything. She does look her best if she does say so herself. She had waited until the last minute to dress, making sure everything was already packed and he was waiting to take her down, while she donned the black silk. Her red hair is hidden underneath a wig, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity to express the idea that she was heading to her own funeral.

His eyes flick over the black attire in distaste, but he stays silent as he takes her arm. His ivory costume makes them resemble nothing more than chess pieces, but she can't bring herself to laugh at the irony. Wordlessly she follows him from the room and flinches at the loud noises that enter the space as the interior door is opened. They make their way into the ballroom stiff and unyielding next to each other. The band is still playing the last dance set and couples float around the floor with happy abandon. Their smiling faces seem to mock her. Shouldn't she be the happy one? This is her bethrothal party. Instead, she's got a smile plastered on her face that she's surprised hasn't cracked from the strain. If anyone bothered to look any closer, they would see that it didn't reach her eyes. That she was dying inside. But they hadn't, and they wouldn't. Burke was the King's man, and they all knew it. Cowards; every last one of them.

Burke leads her up onto the dais created just for the occasion. Normal people had the musicians hiding in the corner and made their announcements from the floor. But Burke wasn't a normal person, as he had reminded her many times. He had to have a stage built with the excuse of showcasing the special Russian orchestra he had imported for the occasion. His real excuse though was that he wanted everyone to be looking at him when he announced his coup d'etat of the season: his betrothal to Addison Forbes-Montgomery Webber. Addison liked to think if they added a couple of ropes and a trap door it could be a gallows.

He leads her up the side stairs as the musicians finish up their last stanza. The song wasn't quite finished yet, but they knew when to cut it short. The music comes to a close and the dancers return to their parties. The room fills with the rumble of whispers as everyone waits to see what the announcement will be. It's hard to not know with Burke holding her hand so determinedly, but everyone likes to speculate.

Burke waits for the crowd to die down and watches as his staff efficiently starts handing out champagne to the many guests. People gasp in delight as they catch on to the meaning of filled champagne glasses and raised dais's.

"Thank you everyone for coming." Burke announces as the wait staff finishes up their task.

"I hope you are having a wonderful time." He says genially. His face seems all that is pleasant and amiable, but Addison knows differently. He despises all of these people. He despises their sense of entitlement and old-fashioned rules that forever brand him as a bastard in their eyes. She sees his cold eyes rake across the crowd as he savors his triumph over them. He has snagged for a wife a daughter of one of the oldest families in England. He is the right hand man of the King. They are in his house, drinking his champagne. No one would dare call him a bastard to his face now.

The crowd titters back at him, loving the spectacle (and the booze). He raises their joined hands and says to the crowd, "I bring you here tonight for a special occasion."

A few members of the crowd whistle and happy murmurs make their way around the room.

"Miss Forbes-Montgomery Webber has agreed to make me the happiest of men!" He says as he raises their joined hands higher and smiles widely. Addison tries to make her smile wider too but fails miserably.

"Now that would be a problem." A man suddenly announces from her far left.

Every head in the room turns, trying to make out who has the gall to say such a thing. Her head swivels to try and find where the voice has come from. She can see a man making his way through the crowd. He's pretty far away, so all she can make out is a black-haired man pulling a smaller and spritelier woman behind him. The crowd parts for him like a pariah amongst their midst.

"And just who might you be?" Burke calls out genially, but with a hard edge that only she can hear. She knows just how upset he is though by the death grip he has on her hand.

As the man gets closer, he starts to look familiar. He has a slim but toned build that she's sure she has seen before and a strong face and eyes that she recognizes from somewhere. But where? She racks her brain but can think of nothing.

"Captain Derek Michael Shepherd, secretary to the Governor of Tortuga, …." The man says with a short bow and the crowd gasps. He drops the other woman's hand and drops a bow. "One Richard Webber, and fiancé to one Addison Forbes-Montgomery Webber."

The crowd gasps again and a few glasses smash along the marble floor. Burke is now holding her hand so tightly that she wants to scream. She tears her hand from his grasp and turns to her lifeline. It's now or never.

"I….I…thought you were dead!" She says in her most surprised voice.

He turns to Burke and says coldly, "Rumors of my demise have been grossly exaggerated."

* * *

Derek can hear the warbling mass of humanity behind him buzzing with the new information. "Miss Forbes-Montgomery Webber was engaged before?" "She thought he had died? How terrible for her!" "No wonder she hadn't been out of the house recently!" "But why no arm bands? Why no black draperies or signs of mourning?" "Had she held out hope?" "Then why was she marrying another?" The questions and conjectures fly across the room. Derek thinks it is the perfect distraction.

"Do you think we might have a moment?" He asks Addison, still having to look up at her from his position in front of the stage.

"Um…certainly." She says with an uncertain look back at Burke.

"You may use the blue salon." Burke says genially, but with a coldly calculating look that Derek doesn't like, as he points to the room that the happy couple has just exited. Burke can be nothing but a gentleman in front of his peers, but it's behind closed doors that Derek worries about.

"I'll give you a few moments of privacy." Burke offers.

Derek nods gentlemanly and they all, minus Burke, walk toward the closed door. When Addison reaches the stairs, he takes her arm and sagely introduces Meredith for any passerbyers as, "My sister, Kathleen."

Addison duly shakes hands with Meredith, but her smile is brittle and he can feel that her body is shaking. Yes, there is definitely something wrong here. He lets the two women go through the door first.

He waits for the door to shut completely, and then urgently turns to Addison. "Is there a back way to get out of here?"

She nimbly points to another door at the opposite end of the room. "But you'll never get out without him seeing. He's got men everywhere."

"I don't care if he sees. And besides, I think that's been taken care of." He looks to Meredith to see if his guess has been correct.

"Christina should have the men in front tied up by now. Izzie and Alex have had enough time to notify George to have the carriage waiting out front."

Derek smiles at the sprightly harridan that is his wife. He is suddenly glad that she is a master of intrigue. Comes in handy sometimes, you know.

But then Meredith looks between Addison and him and a frown crosses her features. "I don't think everyone is going to be able to fit in the carriage though."

Addison has been watching the exchange with a mix of confusion and awe. It looks like her fiancé and his sister have come to rescue her. Her heart pounds at the thought that she might actually get to escape.

"My carriage is loaded and ready to go. We were supposed to leave for Gretna Green tonight. We can take that." Addison offers uncertainly.

"That bastard! I should have known he would try something like this!" Derek says with an extremely annoyed swipe of his hair. He turns to Meredith though and with a loving grin says, "If it wasn't for you and your antics, we might have never gotten here in time."

Addison notices something decidedly none brotherly and sisterly pass between the two people, but decides to ignore it for the sake of escaping. "Um…don't you think we should be leaving or something?" She asks.

"Good idea." Kathleen (Meredith) says with a little start as she breaks her gaze from Derek's.

"Yes. Escaping." Derek says just as dazedly, but then shakes his head and heads over to the door that Addison pointed out earlier. He draws forth one of his pistols and holds it at the ready as he opens the door a crack. No one is there. It seems to be some sort of servant's hallway.

"Which way do we go?" He asks Addison without looking behind him.

"There should be a stairwell at the end of the hallway the leads to the kitchen. There's a side door that leads out into the alley from there." Addison answers in almost a whisper.

"Alright, you two go first." He tells them as he keeps an eye out on the other door. Just how long was a moment to Burke? And what had Burke been doing while they figured out their plan? He didn't want to think about it.

They make their way nimbly and silently down the hallway. The passageway is silent. Everyone must be busy taking care of the guests in other parts of the house. The stairs are the same. It is only when they reach the door that leads into the kitchen that they hear voices. Lots of voices.

"What are we going to do now?" Meredith whispers in the confined space.

Derek draws a blank. Do they take the chance that someone sees them and notifies Burke? Or do they bluff their way past what must be dozens of people?

Suddenly, Addison whispers "Hold on, I've got an idea. Wait here."

Derek and Meredith both stare at each other and then shrug their shoulders.

They wait behind the door, as she walks in cool as you please. They put their ear to the door and hear her saying, "Tim, could you notify the stables that we're going to be needing the carriage earlier than we thought? Have it waiting out front in 15 minutes." Her voice is regal and commanding. There is no doubt as to who the lady of the house is.

A little boy answers, "Yes, my lady." And they hear the sound of the outer door opening and closing.

Addison comes back through the door and leads them back down the same hallway, past the stairs they came down, and into a vast room filled with books.

"These windows open on to the street. I've thought about escaping through them many a time." Addison says as she looks longingly at the very high and well-proportioned windows.

Meredith and Derek look to each other and then Meredith asks, "Why didn't you?"

"That bastard has my mother. He'll kill her if I don't marry him." She declares with all of the built-up hate at the man who has kept her pretty much a captive in her own home. She turns to them and says pleadingly, "Please tell me you have a plan to get her out too?"

* * *

"Um…well no, but we could." Meredith offers uncertainly as she looks between him and Addison.

Derek sighs and rubs his face in frustration. Just what they didn't need: another complication. How is he going to pull this one off? Well, they do have two carriages. Some of them could take Addison to the boat and the others could get her mom. But who stays and who goes? Just how many people does Burke have watching the Webber residence? Could they just sneak in or would they need a full-frontal attack? He sighs. They definitely need to get Addison out of the way first. All of this will have been for nothing if Burke re-captures her. He needs more information.

"Let's talk as we get out of here." He finally says as the pressure of still being in Burke manner weighs down on his peace of mind. First things first: get the hell out of here.

Addison runs over and unlocks the largest window not facing directly onto the street. "This road just leads back to the stables, so no one should see us climbing out." She says perfunctorily as they all stare out at the hefty drop to the ground. It has to be at least fifteen feet, if not more. If he lands right, he just might be able to make it. But what about them?

He looks over at the two ladies costumes and makes a split decision. "I'll go down first and then you two can jump into my arms." He says decisively.

Meredith looks out at the drop and just nods. That's his Meredith; always up for an adventure. Addison looks a bit weary, and gulps, but nods anyway too. Derek hands his loaded pistol to Meredith and says, "If anyone comes in, you know what to do."

They exchange a look that says that both of them know what the other is thinking. Meredith smiles at the irony of them now being in a caper together. The last time Meredith had seen Derek's pistols, they had been pointed at HER. She shakes her head negligibly at Derek's pistol and proceeds to pull a much more feminine derringer out of her handbag.

"It's alright honey, I brought my own." Meredith says with a satisfied little smirk.

Derek just laughs. He un-cocks his pistol and puts it back in its holster before sliding his legs over the windowsill. "I don't know why I worried. I should have taken my sweet old time getting here, let you deal with Burke, taken a holiday…." Derek says good-naturedly as his legs dangle out over the windowsill as he mentally prepares to jump.

"Don't make me push you." Meredith kids, but the love she has for the man in front of her shines through with every syllable.

Derek is about to turn around and attempt the drop when Addison says abruptly, "Hold on a minute here. There is no way I am jumping until one of you tells me what the hell is going on."

Derek looks up Addison's sharp voice to see her standing rigid with her fists on her hips. "Derek, are you in love with your sister?" She asks with all of the dignity she can muster.

He splutters. He can't help it. It's just too funny not too. Addison looks offended and like she might actually walk back into the party, so he tries to settle her down with, "I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier. We just didn't want Burke to know. Meredith isn't my sister, she's my wife."

But that just comes out all wrong because her face just looks even more offended, if that is even possible. He turns around, leaning himself out the window so that his stomach is resting against the windowsill. There is complete silence. He looks up to see both women just staring at each other. Addison looks shocked. Meredith looks like she has no idea what to say. So as he's pushing himself out the window, he starts explaining.

"I was on my way to marry you, Addison, when I came across Meredith on a ship that had been ransacked by pirates." He's not about to tell Addison the entire truth, but staying as close to the truth as possible is probably a good idea. "I offered her safe passage to England, uh, we fell in love, and that was that. I'm sorry." He says as only his head is visible over the frame. "Your father did task me with saving you, so here I am."

"Um…that's okay, I guess." Addison responds with some manners. "I'm kind of sick of fiance's and such myself. No offense."

He's able to get a foot-hold on the side of the building, so he's pretty well established when he says, "Oh, none taken." And drops off the side of the building. It really wasn't as high as he thought. He takes a good roll when he lands, but nothing hurts.

"Alright, you're turn." He calls to Addison as she poking her head out of the frame and looks around very uncertainly.

"Are you sure about this? Are you sure you can catch me?" Addison calls out.

"I promise to break your fall!" He shouts, and then realizes that they're trying to not get caught, so whispers loudly, "You got any better ideas?"

"No." She answers just as uncertainly, but does turn around and shimmy her way out of the windowsill. Meredith helps push her dress out the window and the next thing he knows there's a large-ish woman in a full black ball gown laying across him as he lies flat on his back in the dirt.

"Are you okay?" She says from atop him as he tries to pull air into his lungs.

"I will be if you get off of me." He answers truthfully, too worried about getting out of there to think of something more gentlemanly to say.

"Oh, right." She says and climbs off of him.

He woodenly tries to get up and can't help asking, "Just how did you expect to marry Burke anyway when you're already married to Mark?"

Silence. Did she not hear him? He stops in the act of brushing some of the dirt off of his pants to look up. Her face is completely devoid of color. She asks "What did you just say?"

"Mark Sloan? You're married to him?" He asks a bit uncertainly. Oh boy, just what has he put himself in the middle of? He turns back to the window and shouts up, "Your turn, Mer!"

He hears some grumbling from up above and watches Mer trying to back out on her own, when he hears a softly worded "was." Next to him. He breaks his gaze off of Meredith for a second to see Addison staring off into the distance like she's remember something pleasant.

"Was? You mean you got divorced? That wasn't the impression that he…." He starts to say before his attention is drawn back to Meredith saying, "Are you ready?"

He laughs up at the beautiful site of his wife's skirts hanging right over his head and tells her, "I'm ready!"

She drops down in a flutter of skirts, but this time he is prepared and stays upright. His breath is knocked out of his lungs again, but he's rewarded with the feel of his wife's body resting in his arms. He smiles down at her and gives her a kiss, before he realizes what effect his words have had on the other member of their party.

"Are you telling me that Mark Sloan is alive and kicking?" Addison cries in a clearly angry voice.

Him and Meredith look at each other, but neither one knows what to say to this statement. So he answers, "Yeah, he's waiting for us on the boat."

If at all possible, she looks even more enraged. "Well, let's go then!" She orders as she takes the lead, stomping down the lane in front of them.

"Uh oh." Meredith answers and then starts sniggering.

Rather than put Meredith down, he decides to carry her back to the carriage. It's not every day you have a legitimate reason for carrying your wife down a street in the middle of Mayfair. "So how long do you think Mark is going to stay alive after she gets her hands on him?" He asks as they follow in the wake of Addison's righteous indignation.

"I don't know, but I think you better take Christina with you to rescue her mom or they might give each other ideas."

"Done."

"Oh, and Der?" Meredith asks softly.

"Yeah." He says with a smile that crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Addison makes it to the carriages way before they do. It's only the reminder that there's still a life in the balance that separates them. George drives Addison, Meredith, and Izzie back to the boats while Alex, Derek, and Christina head back to the Webber residence. Derek's not sure who needs rescuing more: Mark or Adelle.


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry this chapter took so long. Family obligations kept me away from writing for a couple of days. I was going to wait and post this when I had the next section written, but it seemed to fit more with the next series of updates. All I can say about this chapter is: did you really think it was going to be that easy?**

Meredith rests along the top deck table; her feet dangling off the edge of the stool as she enjoys the taste of fresh grapes popping in her mouth. Burke had had a rather large picnic basket made up in preparation for the drive north. Lucky for them the kitchen had already put it in the carriage. Addison said giving them the basket, that included such delicacies as fresh fruits and cheeses, was the least she could do for them after they had gone through the trouble of saving her and her mother. Meredith plops another grape in her mouth and savors the sweet tartness as she relives the high drama from last night.

Mark had been waiting aboard the 'Bounty', temporarily in charge of keeping the ship safe, as the vessel was kept waiting in the London pool. He had even helped Addison up the steep rope ladder from the hired dingy that had brought them aboard. That was his first mistake. Second had been to open his arms in welcome and happily declare "Sugarplum!" to his long lost bride. Where he had promptly had his right foot slammed by one very large feminine heel and his nuts knocked back into his nether regions by one very well-aimed stocking-clad knee. Meredith had tried not to laugh, but all she had managed to do was quell it to a snicker as she showed Addison where she was supposed to set her things. Meredith had given Addison her old cabin and Mark had very smartly slid back over the side of the rope ladder and absconded to the other boat, where he'd been ever since.

The crew had loaded Addison trunks: four very large specimens that Meredith had been informed was just her traveling retinue. Meredith thought that was kind of ridiculous. I mean, how many dresses could you own? Where she had been promptly informed by Addison that only two trunks contained clothes: one trunk was entirely filled with books, writing utensils, ladies magazines, and other feminine amenities, and the other brimming to the rim with shoes.

Derek had come back shortly after that with Addie's mother in tow and all thoughts of clothing oneself had flown from her mind. In fact, most of hers had ended up in a little heap on the floor wherever Derek had decided to throw them. She didn't have any problem with that. And she had even very poorly forgotten to ask him how the rescue had gone until her desire to have him writhing underneath her had been sated. Both of them had needed time to rest up after that bout of frenzied love-making, so he had told her about the weird circumstances they had met at the Webber residence: a practically deserted mansion with only a few token servants left behind to put up a fight. Christina had felled one with the same right hook that had produced the new bump on Mark's nose, Alex had knocked one upside the head with the butt of his pistol, and the last had just run for the hills at the site of Derek's steel rapier. Which left little resistance for them to plop Adelle in their carriage and take off with her none the wiser.

Meredith thought it all sounded just a little too easy, but she didn't want to jinx herself by being too negative. They were on their way back to Tortuga, she had the love of her life, they had rescued Addison without coming to any harm or foul, and she was munching down on some of the best food she had ever had in her entire life. Christina decides to take that moment to amble up the stairs, plop down beside her, and partake in the feast spread out before her.

"What's all this?" Christina asks as she surveys the mounds of grapes, pears, apples, and assorted cheeses spread out on the table.

"Breakfast." Meredith answers shortly, trying to be kind as it looks like Christina has just woken up. Where she slept, Meredith has no idea. She still has her clothes on from last night and her hair is all in some kind of funky disarray.

"No kidding. Where'd it come from?"

"Addison."

"Oh."

Meredith looks over at her friend, noticing that she really hasn't eaten anything; she's just kind of rolling one of the apples around with her finger.

"What's up?" She asks as she pops another grape in her mouth.

Christina sighs, and then says grudgingly, "I really didn't know he was married."

This kind of surprises Meredith. Since when did Christina care about whether someone was married or not? Four seconds is all Christina allows herself to wallow in pity though, because she suddenly picks up the fruit, takes a bite, and asks, "So what are you doing?"

Meredith is not about to tell Christina what she had been doing, so she grabs another stem of grapes and offers, "Nothing."

"No, I've been watching you. You've been up here looking at something. What's so interesting?"

Meredith looks forward, smirking, but there's no way in hell she's going to admit to this. When Meredith had woken up this morning, Derek had already been up and manning the wheel. He had let the first mate navigate them down the Thames and out the English Channel, but now that they were out in the open sea, he wanted to be the one up here. She had no problem with that. She had wanted a nice breakfast, and she hadn't quite gotten over them actually being happy and together with no secrets between them, so she had thought it would be nice to bring the picnic basket up and everyone could come partake.

What she hadn't counted on was the view. Not the ocean. She wasn't talking about that. She had seen that a million times. It was a nice day with the sun fully out and an occasional cloud or two meandering by. A steady wind was pushing the sails along and making the sea a little rough, but that's not what it was. You see, it was a little warm today. Unseasonable warm for a Northern Atlantic that usually precluded bundling up in coats and jackets even in the middle of summer.

But today was hot. So hot that Derek had decided to remove his jacket. Said jacket that was now hanging over the far edge of the table she was sitting at. Which meant that no fabric now impeded her view of his really tight bottom in a pair of tight buckskin breeches. It didn't help that his calves were encased in complementary tight knee high boots. He was even now standing at the wheel with his legs splayed apart as his hands directed the ship through the clear blue waters.

"You are so not looking at what I think you're looking at." Christina admonishes disgustedly.

"Yeah, what are you doing back there, Meredith? You've been kind of quiet." Derek says as he flashes a twinkling smile over his shoulder.

"Just enjoying the view." She says with her own secretive little smile in place.

Derek gives her his own secretive little smile and turns back to the waves. He knows what she's doing.

"You are sick, just sick. I'm finding something to drink, preferably with alcohol." Christina grumbles as she makes her way back down to the main deck and Derek's cabin.

Meredith's plops another grape into her mouth and continues with what she was doing.

* * *

Derek leans back on his stance, relaxing onto the balls of his feet as the wheel passes beneath his fingers. Ah, this is the life. He's got the wind at his back, the ocean spread out before him, and the woman he loves directly behind him. Life is good. He's got some pesky problems of being married to the wrong daughter and a lost Governorship, but somehow it doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would. He never wanted to be an administrator for the rest of his life anyway. Maybe he could talk Richard into selling him the 'bounty'. Or maybe he could actually do something with his land: build a house, grow some sugar cane. He suddenly has an image of a little girl with Meredith's golden hair and green eyes riding happy and free through the sugar cane; her hair whipping out behind her as he pretends to let her win. Yes, life is good.

His meanderings are disrupted by the loud grumblings of his stomach. Meredith had brought up the food a while ago, but he had been so happy at his station that he hadn't thought to grab anything. Plus it was fun to pretend that he didn't know what Meredith was doing. He had turned around a couple of times to find that her gaze was most definitely not on the cool blue waves of the Atlantic. In fact, she seemed to be staring at a certain part of his anatomy. He didn't mind. It was kind of flattering. The only part of this scenario that he didn't like was that he couldn't see any part of her while he was standing up here. Hmm, maybe he can knock off two birds with one stone.

"Hey, do you think I could have some of those grapes?" He asks silkily as he turns around to watch her face as he says it.

She quirks an eyebrow. "Why don't you come over here and get them yourself?" She says in a teasing manner.

"Why don't you feed them to me?" He asks with an even silkier grin.

"That'll cost you." She says as she very purposefully grabs a few more grapes and plops them in her mouth.

"Cost me what?" He asks as if he knows exactly what she is thinking. Preferably something with her underneath him wearing nothing at all.

His fantasy is dashed though when she says unexpectedly, "A lessons at manning the wheel."

She wants to man the wheel? "You want to man the wheel?" He asks in surprise.

"I had my own ship, remember?" She reminds him as she grabs a cluster of grapes and walks up to him. "I've never gotten to man one this big before."

"That's what she said." Mark says from the stairs as he hops over to take one of the stools in front of all the food.

Meredith just rolls her eyes at Mark and looks up at him with imploring eyes. He's got a wife who knows how to man a wheel. She knows how to read star charts. She's handy with a pistol. Suddenly, he is very very turned on.

He can feel his eyes crinkling up in the corners as he says, "I'll let you man the wheel if you feed me the grapes while I'm doing it."

He can feel Mark rolling his eyes behind him as Meredith smiles up at him. "Deal." She says as she plops a grape in his mouth. The cool sweet juices burst in his mouth, and he starts to think about who he can get to take over for him if he suddenly wants to abscond with Meredith. Maybe if he plays his cards right she'll agree to man his 'wheel'.

* * *

Mark blithely tries to ignore the couple in front of him. It's not like they aren't ignoring him with all their little 'teach me to man the wheel' and 'feed me grapes' crap anyway. Why couldn't they just go down stairs and spare the rest of them the site of their sickeningly gross happy couple mushy love stuff. Even now Meredith was pinned in between the wheel and Derek's body; Derek happily showing her how to maneuver the large ship. Every once in a while Derek would lean down and Meredith would plop a grape in his mouth. A couple of times Derek would even nibble at her fingers or place a fleeting kiss along her neck. Mark was going to be sick.

"Could you guys keep it down over there? I'm trying to eat here." He tells them without much of a bark. He takes a quick bite of an apple just to show them that he is serious.

"You don't have to be here." Meredith calls back glibly in between giggles. Derek is apparently trying to suck all of the grape juices off of her fingers. Mark rolls his eyes again. Once Derek has gone back to just moving his hands around over hers on the wheel she responds, "In fact, I'm surprised you're here at all."

He's sure she's talking about the fact that the two women who now hate him are just a couple of closed doors away. He's not a coward. They're going to be on these boats for another month, at least, and he's not going to spend it hiding. He chose to come on this trip. He knew what he was getting into when he signed up for this adventure. Well, kind of. He had known that he had had to do something to prevent Addison from marrying Burke. Even if she thought he was dead, and they hadn't seen each other in who knew how many years, she was still his wife and he did owe her something.

When Christina had invited him along on their little caper, he had readily agreed. It was the perfect way to prevent Derek from trying to marry Addison, but at the same time not have to ruin her reputation by announcing that she was married to him. Plus, he had kind of ended things badly between her, pretending to have been dead and all. He at least owed her her freedom. He had the annulment papers all ready in his pocket. If she wanted to sign them, she'd be free.

But then he takes another look at the happy couple. He had had that once. They had had that once. What had happened? He remembers the first day he had seen her. He had just come home from Eton. He had been flirting shamelessly with some local wench, some vicar's daughter or some such thing, puffing out his chest as only young men fresh from school can do. He'd always known he was good looking. He'd always had a way with women. He didn't know why, he just did. And the vicar's daughter had known it too, looking at him in a way that said she wasn't that saintly and might be amenable to a kiss or two. He had certainly wanted to help with that.

Except that was when the goddess had ridden by: Addison Forbes Montgomery Webber. A fiery red-head on a steed a couple hands bigger than any horse he'd ever expected to see a woman on. Her riding habit had been a pale pink, hugging her every curve in a style that most decidedly favored her. Before he had known her any better, he had been astounded by just how well her attire had complemented the dark chocolate brown of her horse. When he had known her better, she had told him that she had planned it that way. But on this particular day, all he had done was watch her casually maneuver her stallion, for that's what he was, through the local village as if she owned everything in site. Which she had, but he hadn't found out about that until later either.

He had watched her clomp down the high street and had known that he had had to have her. He had found out that her father was the Governor of some godforsaken island in the Caribbean and that she was staying with her uncle, the Earl of Haversham. The old codger must be at Burke's beck and call too if he had let Burke get away with what he had. Mark had been the second son of an earl himself at the time, but second best hadn't been enough to get him an audience with the Earl's niece. Especially someone who had the kind of reputation Mark already had with the ladies. It wasn't his fault that they fell all over him.

He hadn't cared though. He had bribed a stable-hand the next day with a ready amount of blunt to tell him where she usually went riding and to keep quiet about him asking. He had been successful with the first, apparently not with the second. She had known he was coming. Had in fact been waiting for him underneath the branches of a willow tree, pretending to let her horse drink from a stream. She had told him about that later too. How her faithful servant had warned her that a young man had been asking about her whereabouts. It seems the servant had felt guilty about telling Mark about his ladies whereabouts. He had plainly feared for his job if it got out that he had endangered his mistress's life. Or worse, her virtue. So she had told the servant that she would change her path accordingly and not to worry about it. Except that she hadn't.

He could still see the regal line of her neck as he had walked up to her, having dismounted and holding his horses reign in his hands as well. This day she was in green, but it suited her. Not a fancy outfit that begged to be looked at, but an earthy green that almost made her one of the forest's occupants. She couldn't hide that fiery mass piled atop her head though. No, she couldn't. He remembers clearly wanting to know if ALL of her hair was that fiery red.

She had stayed perfectly still, holding her body forward as if she hadn't heard his approach. He knew she had. There was no way that she hadn't. Two could play at that game, he remembers thinking. He had walked forward, expecting her to turn and ask him what he was doing. But she hadn't. He had tied his horse to the nearest tree and walked up behind her, a hairs-breath from touching her. She still hadn't turned around. So he had done the thing that he had wanted to do since the moment he had seen her. He had bent his head and kissed her gently on the recess of her neck. The spot directly where the curve of her shoulder and the haughtiness of her neck met in creamy invitation. Just like what Derek was doing to Meredith right now.

His reverie is snatched away though when the clink of glass being slammed into a hard surface grabs his attention. Startled, he turns to see a very tipsy Christina plopping herself down at the table with a half-filled decanter of brandy and an obviously well-used snifter. It's only eleven o'clock in the morning. What the hell is she up to?

"You don't get to talk to me." She slurs at him.

He guesses he deserves that. Although he hadn't really thought she would care this much. She was just like him: she loved 'em and she left them. That's what he liked about her. She was the only women he knew who actually came close to thinking about sex like a man. Except now she was kind of acting like a scorned woman. And he didn't quite know what to make of it.

"Just keep your right hook over there and we'll be fine." He answers in as non-chalant an attitude as he can.

You can't let them know they've gotten to you or that'll be the end of it. Look at that poor sap, Alex. Izzie hasn't let him outside of her room since last night! That's why he had come over here. Between them and that new wench Callie that had apparently joined them in Bermuda, no one came out of their cabins anymore. It was a god damned love fest! He didn't count the O'Malley brothers as having sufficient enough IQ's as to hold a decent conversation with, so he had come over here. Christina pissed off at him was a lot more entertaining then him stuck talking to himself in his own cabin all day.

"Zip." She reminds him with a glare, emphasizing her point with a rapid meeting of her fingers with her thumb like she's physically shushing him with her hand. Except it's kind of a drunken shush and she has to squint her eyes just to keep up with the physical act of the shutting. "The only reason I came up here anyway is because I think someone's following us."

That's definitely not what he was expecting to hear. He flips his head around to look behind them and can sure enough see the sails of a far off ship. And as he's watching, one set of sails turns into three. Uh oh.

"Hey Der, I think we've got company."


	19. Chapter 19

"Alright, you've got all the trunks loaded from the other ship?" Derek asks a deck-hand as he skips across the main deck and up to the top deck.

"Yes, Captain!" The man yells behind him. He barely registers the affirmation. They've got too much to do before Burke gets here. They haven't gotten confirmation yet that it is Burke, but he knows deep down that it is. How could he have been stupid enough to believe that the man wouldn't come after them? He knew the escape had been too easy. God, why hadn't he counted on this?

"Derek, do you want me to go back for the cannons and lead shot?" Mark asks from the top deck. He's just finished bringing over all of the other ship's occupants personal effects and is waiting for orders.

Derek looks back at the other ships that have incrementally scooted forward on the horizon in the past couple of hours it has taken Mark, Christina, and Meredith, with help from a few members of his crew, to paddle over to the other ship, pack, and bring them all back over here. He looks over at Tyler manning the wheel and makes some quick calculations.

In those few moments, the steady beat of the wind on his clothing is an incessant reminder that time is moving forward. The wind has picked up from earlier in the day, whipping up the waves in pointed white caps that resemble millions of little mountains pulsing up from the depths. The sun is still shining, but the harsh wind has set the sails to cracking in their moors. They will use this wind when they aren't tied down by the older, slower boat. But just how much time can they spare?

"I don't think we have time to bring the guns, but we can never have enough ammunition." He decides quickly. Mark turns to carry out his orders, when Derek stops him with, "Mark?"

Mark stops his descent and turns. He doesn't say anything, just waits for Derek to ask his question. "What's with the black?"

Mark looks down at his attire and smiles mischievously. For Mark is clothed head to foot in black: a black linen shirt, black breeches, black boots, and even a startlingly simple black coat. His only adornment a small golden falcon pinned in his ear. It's a stunning image given the loud colors and garish patterns he has been wearing up until this point. "I told you I didn't like bees." He imparts off-handedly as he continues his descent down the stairs.

Derek is suddenly reminded of a pirate that has been the bane of the Governor's and his existence for the past ten years, particularly the last five. A pirate known as Blackhawk. A free agent who roamed the seas; occasionally plucking a cargo that was meant for the Governor. Not enough to make a dent but just enough to be an annoyance. But no one could ever touch him. Derek had been looking for him for years, but his crews were loyal and when the job was done, he just seemed to disappear into thin air. Derek isn't sure whether anyone of Meredith's crew knew just how good of a con artist Mark Sloan really was. How better to hide an affiliation with the color black than to never be seen in it? Imagine that, under his own nose this entire time. Maybe they've got more of a chance here than they thought.

He watches Mark scamper off to the dingy, but then pulls his attention back to what he is doing. "I'm going to check on the preparations. I'll be right back." He tells Tyler.

He meets a henchman as he's crossing the main deck again. Oliver. "Are the guns ready to go?" He asks. He had sent Oliver down earlier to make sure all the guns were loaded.

"Yes Captain. Mooney is down there right now." Oliver answers crisply. "I'm leading a team to gather all the extra gun powder."

And sure enough, as he watches, a couple of men come darting up the galley stairs. "Carry on." And then as the men pass in front of him, "Oh, and Oliver?"

"Yes, Capt'n?"

"There'll be extra shot and powder coming from the other ship. Take care of it when you're done with this." He orders. The men salute and a chorus of 'Yes, Capt'ns' mark their passage away from him. Alright, that is taken care of. His crew knows what to do. They've been in firefights before. Now he's just got one thing to worry about.

He steps into the low light of the cabin and is happy to see Meredith occupied with tying down the newest addition of trunks. Her and Christina are tag-teaming wrapping the heavy rope around the wooden objects and latching them to the bolted furniture. They already have the dining chairs placed upside down on the dining room table and latched down. They've been busy. The heavy wind blows the door behind him shut with a slam. Both women look up.

"Mark is going back for the ammunition." He tells Christina. A certain truce has arisen since the sighting of the ships. Everyone is working together no matter their personal differences. You can't be mad at someone if they're dead.

"Does he need a hand?" Christina asks as they finish tying the last of the trunks to his desk. The cabin is definitely short of floor space now. Three trunks are tied up on the three sides of the desk and one underneath the dining room table. Alex and Izzie are right now helping Addie tie up the remaining four trunks in her cabin. George and Callie are helping the O'Malley brothers take down the other ships sails and will be joining them shortly. They wouldn't want to give the other ships more of an advantage than they already have. If they make it through this, the rest of the journey is going to be a very tight fit.

"Probably." He answers succinctly and Christina is out the door.

Meredith wipes the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand and stands up with a crick. Is she wearing….?

"Are you wearing breeches?" He asks in surprise?

"You've never seen breeches on a woman before? I mean, besides Christina." Meredith answers with a little dusting of the mentioned garments with her hands. She's all sticky and grimy from transporting all the trunks into the cabin and tying them down.

No, but he's never seen his WIFE in breeches before. He's starting to understand why women aren't allowed to wear them. They would cause a riot. He would never get any work done. They hug every curve of her lower body, perfectly encasing her hips and legs. His mouth waters a little bit. But then he shakes his head a little bit. They are being chased by three ships that are most likely coming after them to either kill them or put them in jail. He had stolen the man's fiancé right out of his house. Kill him. He was definitely going to try and kill him.

"But WHY are YOU wearing them?" He asks as he sidles up to her and enfolds her in his embrace.

"Ew…I'm all gross and sweaty from moving all those trunks." She says with mock disapproval. She doesn't move away though. "I can't fight in a dress."

She thinks she's going to fight? Where had she gotten that idea? A sudden vision of some degenerate seaman thrusting a blade through her gut flashes before his eyes. His arms instinctively tighten around her. He has to be gentle with this. He knows she's not some wilting flower and will probably take offense at what he has to say next.

"First of all, I like it when you're gross and sweaty." He says with a kiss to the top of her head. "And second of all, if it even comes down to fighting, I can't let you do that."

She immediately glares up at him with a look that reminds him of a pit-bull he once saw in a shop window. "What do you mean you can't LET me?"

Oh, this is so not going to go over well. "I didn't mean…." He starts with a heavy sigh, but then tries again, "Can I ask you not to fight? It's just that if I'm out there trying to run the ship, I can't be worried that you could get hurt."

"You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself." She responds defensively, trying to shake herself out of his grasp.

But he holds her fast. "This has nothing to do with what you are capable of. You are a wonder. I never thought I would meet a woman as smart, as daring, as without fear as you." He says as he holds her shoulders toward him so that she has to look at him. "I'm sure if you wanted to you could have Burke tied up, the other ships blown to smithereens, without even blinking an eyelash. But…"

"But?" She asks.

"This has to do with me. If you got hurt…If you died…" He says as tears start to pool up in his eyes.

She starts to tear up as well as she sees what his words are really about. He is afraid. He is afraid of losing her. "How do you think I feel?" She asks with a little sniffle.

He is suddenly holding her tight, her arms just as tightly wound around his middle as they hold onto each other for dear life. They stay that way for many moments. But he has to let go. There's a lot of work to do. "Can you do it for me?" He asks with red-rimmed eyes.

"Yeah." She says as she lies her head softly back down on his chest.

He holds her lightly, his arms encircling her and coming to rest on her lower back. "Plus, someone has to keep certain other people from killing each other." He says in a joking manner.

Meredith laughs, but the moment is not a laughing matter.

"I love you, Derek. I love you a lot." She says to his chest.

"I love you too, Meredith. I love you too." He says as he stares off into the hours and minutes to come.

_Suggested Soundtrack: 'Underwater March' by Klaus Badelt (POC soundtrack)_

The steady increase in wind had been a harbinger of a worse storm to come. The wind had whipped itself into a frenzy. The men were only able to hold onto the masting and keep a close eye on the sails by sincere vigilance. Normally they wouldn't have let the sails out in such a storm, but the three approaching ships give them no choice. The last four remaining souls aboard the older, heavier ship had been brought over to the Bounty, so the husk of a ship was now free of any human inhabitation or direction. Meredith, Alex, Izzie, Christina, and George stand in the back of the ship watching as their home for the past five years slips away into the downpour. The rain coming down in sheets soaks them to the bone. They don't mind.

"It was a good ship." Izzie says as her eyes follow the lengthening distance between the two ships.

It was a decision based on survival. It was a decision that they had all been willing to take. It still didn't stop them from mourning what had come to represent their freedom from shaky escapes and cockroach-infested tap rooms. Not to mention the hours of friendly, or not so friendly, card games, girl talk, triumphant celebrations, and supportive silences.

Alex takes Izzie's hand in his and says, "You remember the first time we saw her?"

They all smile at the happy memory. The wife of well-known merchant had just found out that her 'husband' apparently had many other 'wives' in several strategic ports. It's how he had pooled enough money to embark on his shipping venture. His business gave him the perfect excuse to travel from port to port. And this way he would always have a hot dinner and a willing bed partner. The perfect plan, right? Except he hadn't counted on his wives finding out about each other. And selling off his assets to split between them. They were probably living in England right this minute as a pack of merry widows living off their dear departed husband's generous welfare.

"Do you think the guy ever figured out what happened?" Meredith asks with a little grin.

"Who cares? We got the boat, didn't we?" Christina comments airily. "Stupid boy penis does, stupid boy penis gets."

"You remember that bottle of champagne she gave us?" George asks as the boat undulates over the course of the waves. There are no sails, there are no hands manning the wheel, so the ship is left to meander whichever which way the sea would like it to. The bigger ship is breaking away, the sails let out to take full advantage of the wind.

"I can't believe you wouldn't let us drink it." Alex says with disgust.

"You have to break it over the side. That's just how it's done." George answers like he's talking to a two year old.

"I'll break you over the side." Alex grumbles beneath his breath.

"Alex." Izzie warns.

"What?" He asks in all innocence. "He started it!"

Izzie glares at him.

"Oh Izzie! Oh Izzie! Don't stop Izzie!" George says, apparently mimicking Alex in a moment of acute passion.

Alex looks like he wants to murder George, but Christina thankfully knocks George upside the head instead.

"Owe! What was that for?!" He asks as he rubs the now tender spot.

"We are being supportive." Christina announces regally.

"We are supposed to be saying goodbye here people." Meredith reminds.

Alex and George give each other one more glare, but reluctantly turn to stare at the much farther away ship. They can now barely see it, the rain and the high waves blurring what they can make out. Each tug of the wind blows them farther and farther away. They can feel that their ship is picking up speed. They know they have made the right decision, but it doesn't make it any easier.

"So do you think we have a shot?" Alex asks as he stares forward.

"This is the fastest ship in the Caribbean." Christina comments with false bravado. Her vision is on the tiny ship off in the distance too.

"But we aren't coming from the Caribbean." Izzie offers thoughtfully.

They've all been thinking it, but no one had wanted to say it. There is a couple moments of silence after that.

"Do you think Burke knew we were coming?" Christina asks. They've all been thinking that too. It's just too much of a coincidence that barely 24 hours out of port that the three ships would have found them. They had to have at least known what direction they were going and been at the ready to have found them so quickly.

"Well, there's only way we are going to find out." Meredith says with a hard edge to her voice.

"Yep." Christina agrees, followed by a chorus of "Yeps" from every member standing there.

And as they watch, the tiny ship passes over one final wave and is gone from their field of vision. Just a final blink and she is gone. The rain pelts down on their clothing for a few more seconds. They all watch the place where their ship was last seen.

"We better get going." Alex says unnecessarily.

The spell is broken. They have said their goodbyes. It is time to face their future. They must now rely on more than just each other to get through this. Their tricks and schemes and planning will not get them through this. They have to trust the Shepherd knows what he is doing. They have to have faith that this crew will lead them to safety. But most of all, they prey for the wind to hold.

_Recommended Soundtrack: 'I See Monsters' by Ryan Adams_

The five friends break their gaze from the now empty spot and turn as one to make their way to the front of the ship. The rain pelts their clothes, but they do not speak. It may be day time, it may be night time, or somewhere in between, but ever since the storm had come in they hadn't been able to tell. The wind is so high that they have to hold on to their jackets and hats to keep them wrapped firmly around their soaked bodies. All five wear brown breeches and brown coats; the three women only identified by the longish hair spilling out underneath their hats.

The five former crew members make their way around the side of the ship, over the main deck, and up the stairs to the Captain's deck. Derek is there looking every inch the Captain: Tyler is at the wheel, a few men wait in baited breath for their Captain's orders.

Derek stands with his back to the wind and rain as he asks, "The guns are all in place? You've made sure the powder stays dry?"

"Yes, sir. Everything is ready to go." Oliver answers in a nervous stance. Everyone knows that they are in danger. They are riding through a very heavy storm with their sails at full readiness. It is almost unheard of. Three ships have been following them all day, getting closer and closer. Menace and danger seem to fill the air. They've done all they can though. Everything is ready. Everything is prepared. All that is left is to wait.

"Good, you're dismissed. Keep a close eye on the ropes though." Derek tells Oliver. He wouldn't want someone to get hurt by a cannon breaking free from its lines. As soon as Oliver is gone, his attention turns to Mark. "You've got a contingent ready?" He says as Meredith sidles up to him.

"Ready when you give the signal." Mark answers with feigned calmness. He's nervous but he's always been of the mindset that it was better for the crew if you didn't show any trepidation. Especially if there were ladies present. He sends a smirk Meredith's way.

Derek turns to see what Mark is smirking at and catches Meredith giving Mark a pointed look. One that says I know that you are full of it and don't bother to try that crap on me. Mark just shrugs his shoulders. Mark sees another woman that doesn't take any of his crap either trying to saddle her way away from the group. He's had enough of this crap. He has to find out what is wrong with the woman.

"Derek." He says with a nod of his head and a wink at Meredith before he exits. Plus Derek had this petulant 'I need to save my wife from danger' kind of look that he was sure Meredith was going to take kindly to. He didn't need to be there for that. He knew all about THOSE kind of marriage squabbles.

"Meredith, I thought you said you were going to…" Derek starts to say, but is interrupted quickly.

"I said I wasn't going to fight. I didn't say I was going to stay below knitting a sweater." She remarks belligerently.

"Meredith, I can't…" He tries again, almost whining.

"Can't what?" Meredith answers in an almost seductive manner. She grabs onto the lapels of his jacket and pulls him closer. "But I think it's sexy when you order people around."

Derek is pretty sure that this has nothing to do with him being sexy, but he lets her pull him in anyway. "Meredith?"

"Mhmm?" She answers with a little half-smile.

"I'm not going to let you seduce me into letting you stay up here." He answers.

The petulant makes its way back to her face, but she sucks it up to answer, "Derek, I just can't stay below and do nothing. It's not me. You know that. If this was my ship, I'd be in your place right now. I just can't do nothing."

He guesses she does have a point there. He sighs and then says, "Alright, but if there's fighting, you're going down below."

"Deal." She answers a little too readily. Why does he think she might have a hard time following that directive also?

Suddenly, another presence is felt at his elbow. "Sorry to interrupt dude, but we have something we need to ask you." Alex asks with a small amount of shame-facedness.

"Karev?" He asks in confusion.

"I know it's like a bad time and all with the rain and the ships and we could die and stuff." Alex says as he very visibly tries to stem the side to side shuffling of his feet.

It's only when Meredith see's Izzie's arm hanging onto the back of Alex's elbow that she starts to get an inkling of what this might be about. She can feel her jaw dropping and her eyes widening as he continues to speak.

"Um, can this wait until after we're out of mortal danger?" Derek asks with some bemusement.

"Um, actually no." He says and then looks back with a mildly scared look at the woman on his elbow. "I mean, that's why."

"That's why what? Spit it out, Karev." Derek orders a little impatiently.

But Alex is kind of stupefied. The words just won't come out. So Meredith interjects, "I think he wants you to marry them."

Derek's head snaps to her, but then quickly back to Alex. Meredith catches a few heated whispers between the couple before Derek asks, "Is this true?"

"Well, you are the Captain. And Captains can marry people." Alex fumbles. "And we want to get married, so…"

"Right now?" Derek asks disbelievingly.

After a discreet stomp of his foot by Izzie, Alex answers, "Yes."

"Okay." Derek answers slowly, clearly fazed by the whole thing. He turns to Meredith and asks, "What do I do now?"

"I don't know. I've never married anyone!" She says exasperatedly.

"Here." George says as he shoves a bible into Derek's hands. "It's marked off."

For the first time Izzie speaks. "How did you?" She asks George with a queer mistiness to her eyes that has nothing to do with the rain.

George just shrugs his shoulders but his eyes flick toward her future husband. "Let's just say I had an inkling."

"What is going on here?" Christina suddenly interjects. "Aren't we supposed to be escaping or something?"

"Alex and Izzie want to get married." Meredith tells her with wide eyes and added significance.

Christina stares pointedly at them. Alex squirms under her stare. Izzie just stares back with a look that says that it isn't any of Christina's business. "About time." Is all Christina says, and then turns to look at Derek.

He looks a bit uncomfortable. He's never done any of these Captain marrying things. Do they seriously want him to read out of the Bible?

"Just say the words, man." Mark says from his stance at the back of the group. He's enjoying this entirely too much. His arms are crossed and his back-end is perched against the table. He knew it was a good idea to come on this trip.

"Okay." Derek says.

And right there, in the middle of the day or the middle of the night (does it really matter?) Derek marries one Alexander Karev and one Isabella Stevens-Duquette in the middle of a rain storm a couple of days off the coast of England with three ships following them bent on destroying them. The ship has been let out to full sail, and the wind is so high, that the boat practically sails through the water. Or more accurately, sailing atop it as it jumps from wave to wave. The wind blows her hair about and the rain soaks her through, but the bride couldn't have been more radiant. The groom looks a bit scared, but didn't they all look like that? And when he looks at his new wife after the words have been proclaimed that pronounce them man and wife, you couldn't have ever seen a happier man. Too bad the high wind and the pounding rain kept them from hearing the first crack of the mast breaking.


	20. Chapter 20

**I was going to wait and post this with the next part, but the next part has taken on a life of it's own. So where are we? Everyone has decamped to the faster ship, the friends have let go of their home, and the three ships are still following them. A wicked storm has kicked up and they are scrambling to prepare themselves for every possibility. There's just something so sexy about Derek ordering his crew around. sigh**_  
_

_Recommended Soundtrack: 'I See Monsters' by Ryan Adams_

The five friends break their gaze from the now empty spot and turn as one to make their way to the front of the ship. The rain pelts their clothes, but they do not speak. It may be day time, it may be night time or somewhere in between, but ever since the storm had come in they hadn't been able to tell. The wind is so high that they have to hold on to their jackets and hats to keep them wrapped firmly around their soaked bodies. All five wear brown breeches and brown coats; the three women only identified by the longish hair spilling out underneath their hats.

The five former crew members make their way around the side of the ship, over the main deck, and up the stairs to the Captain's deck. Derek is there looking every inch the Captain: Tyler is at the wheel, a few men wait in baited breath for their Captain's orders.

Derek stands with his back to the wind and rain as he asks, "The guns are all in place? You've made sure the powder stays dry?"

"Yes, sir. Everything is ready to go." Oliver answers in a nervous stance. Everyone knows that they are in danger. They are riding through a very heavy storm with their sails at full readiness. It is almost unheard of. Three ships have been following them all day, getting closer and closer. Menace and danger seem to fill the air. They've done all they can though. Everything is ready. Everything is prepared. All that is left is to wait.

"Good, you're dismissed. Keep a close eye on the ropes though." Derek tells Oliver. He wouldn't want someone to get hurt by a cannon breaking free from its lines. As soon as Oliver is gone, his attention turns to Mark. "You've got a contingent ready?" He says as Meredith sidles up to him.

"Ready when you give the signal." Mark answers with feigned calmness. He's nervous but he's always been of the mindset that it was better for the crew if you didn't show any trepidation. Especially if there were ladies present. He sends a smirk Meredith's way.

Derek turns to see what Mark is smirking at and catches Meredith giving Mark a pointed look. One that says I know that you are full of it and don't bother to try that crap on me. Mark just shrugs his shoulders. Mark sees another woman that doesn't take any of his crap either trying to saddle her way away from the group. He's had enough of her crap. He has to find out what is wrong with the woman.

"Derek." He says with a nod of his head and a wink at Meredith before he exits. Plus Derek had this petulant 'I need to save my wife from danger' kind of look that he was sure Meredith was going to take kindly to. He didn't need to be there for that. He knew all about THOSE kind of marriage squabbles.

"Meredith, I thought you said you were going to…" Derek starts to say, but is interrupted quickly.

"I said I wasn't going to fight. I didn't say I was going to stay below knitting a sweater." She remarks belligerently.

"Meredith, I can't…" He tries again, almost whining.

"Can't what?" Meredith answers in an almost seductive manner. She grabs onto the lapels of his jacket and pulls him closer. "But I think it's sexy when you order people around."

Derek is pretty sure that this has nothing to do with him being sexy, but he lets her pull him in anyway. "Meredith?"

"Mhmm?" She answers with a little half-smile.

"I'm not going to let you seduce me into letting you stay up here." He answers.

The petulance makes its way back to Meredith's face, but she sucks it up to answer, "Derek, I just can't stay below and do nothing. It's not me. You know that. If this was my ship, I'd be in your place right now. I just can't do nothing."

She does have a point there. He sighs and then says, "Alright, but if there's fighting, you're going down below."

"Deal." She answers a little too readily. Why does he think she might have a hard time following that directive also?

Suddenly, another presence is felt at his elbow. "Sorry to interrupt dude, but we have something we need to ask you." Alex asks with a small amount of shame-facedness.

"Karev?" He asks in confusion.

"I know it's like a bad time and all with the rain and the ships and we could die and stuff." Alex says as he very visibly tries to stem the side to side shuffling of his feet.

It's only when Meredith see's Izzie's arm hanging onto the back of Alex's elbow that she starts to get an inkling of what this might be about. She can feel her jaw dropping and her eyes widening as he continues to speak.

"Um, can this wait until after we're out of mortal danger?" Derek asks with some bemusement.

"Um, actually no." He says and then looks back with a mildly scared look at the woman on his elbow. "I mean, that's why."

"That's why what? Spit it out, Karev." Derek orders a little impatiently.

But Alex is kind of stupefied. The words just won't come out. So Meredith interjects, "I think he wants you to marry them."

Derek's head snaps to her, but then quickly back to Alex. Meredith catches a few heated whispers between the couple before Derek asks, "Is this true?"

"Well, you are the Captain. And Captains can marry people." Alex fumbles. "And we want to get married, so…"

"Right now?" Derek asks disbelievingly.

After a discreet stomp of his foot by Izzie, Alex answers, "Yes."

"Okay." Derek answers slowly, clearly fazed by the whole thing. He turns to Meredith and asks, "What do I do now?"

"I don't know. I've never married anyone!" She says exasperatedly.

"Here." George says as he shoves a bible into Derek's hands. "It's marked off."

For the first time Izzie speaks. "How did you?" She asks George with a queer mistiness to her eyes that has nothing to do with the rain.

George just shrugs his shoulders but his eyes flick toward her future husband. "Let's just say I had an inkling."

"What is going on here?" Christina suddenly interjects. "Aren't we supposed to be escaping or something?"

"Alex and Izzie want to get married." Meredith tells her with wide eyes and added significance.

Christina stares pointedly at them. Alex squirms under her stare. Izzie just stares back with a look that says that it isn't any of Christina's business. "About time." Is all Christina says, and then turns to look at Derek.

He looks a bit uncomfortable. He's never done any of these Captain marrying things. Do they seriously want him to read out of the Bible?

"Just say the words, man." Mark says from his stance at the back of the group. He's enjoying this entirely too much. His arms are crossed and his back-end is perched against the table. He knew it was a good idea to come on this trip.

"Okay." Derek says.

And right there, in the middle of the day or the middle of the night (does it really matter?) Derek marries one Alexander Karev and one Isabella Stevens-Duquette in the a rain storm a couple of days off the coast of England with three ships following them bent on destroying them. The ship has been let out to full sail, and the wind is so high, that the boat practically sails through the water. Or more accurately, sails atop it as it jumps from wave to wave. The wind blows her Izzie's hair about and the rain soaks her through, but the bride couldn't be more radiant. The groom looks a bit scared, but didn't they all look like that? But after the words have been proclaimed that pronounce them man and wife, he looks at his new wife and you couldn't have ever seen a happier man. Too bad the high wind and the pounding rain kept them from hearing the first crack of the mast breaking.

* * *

_Suggested soundtrack: 'The Kraken' by Hans Zimmer (POC soundtrack)_

"Christina!" Christina hears called out to her as she tries to sneak down the stairs and away from all the happy couples. It's not that she's not happy for them. She is. It's just that watching other people paw and grope each other makes her think about the fact that she isn't getting pawed and groped on a regular basis anymore. That was ALL. It had nothing to do with the fact that she thought that she had actually found another human being who actually thought about love and marriage like she did: both empty promises all in the guise of legitimately getting into someone's pants. Mark and her had never discussed the 'L' word. There had been no talk of marriage. Ha! Because he already was married!

She feels a jerk on her elbow. "What do you want?" She asks venomously as the man of her thoughts catches up with her at the bottom of the stairs. God damn hypocrite.

"What the hell is your problem?" Mark hisses as she jerks her elbow out of his grasp. What is wrong with her? They had a nice little thing going on there. Why did she have to mess it up by acting all…."

His eyes widen as he suddenly realized what is going on here. "You're jealous!" He calls out.

"I am very happy for Alex and Izzie, thank you very much." Christina comments superiorly and turns to keep walking toward the cabin. She was happy for them. They had been stupidly pining over each other for years, but wouldn't admit it to the other. Just because her two friends got married, on top of her best friend getting married only a month before, made her feel a little teary eyed and lonely had nothing to do with it.

Mark grabs her arm again though and pulls her into him. It's pouring down buckets, but it doesn't seem to bother him. "I wasn't talking about them, sweetheart." He says as he wraps his arms around her. She's jealous. That's what it is. How could he have been such an idiot? She was a woman after all, and he was Mark Sloan. Enough said.

He has misestimated her again though. Mark suddenly feels a very sharp and pointy object pressed against his thigh. He looks down to see a flinty little boot knife pressed a little too closely to the family jewels.

"Let me go or I will cut it off." She growls. Men and their stupid boy pensises. They think they can feel you up and everything's going to be alright.

Mark immediately let's go, but then is thrown off balance when he hears a loud crack. Thunder? Although they haven't heard any thunder in a while. He's pulled back to Christina though when she tries to tare off again.

"Christina! If you're not jealous and you obviously don't give a shit about the time we've spent together, than what is it?"

Christina stops and he thinks he's finally going to get what he wants. But then she flips her sopping wet hair back and turns toward him. The scowl on her face almost makes him take a step back. But that would make him look weak, and he's not going to do that. At least not in front of her.

"You really want to know what my problem is?" She almost sneers. The god damned idiot still didn't get it, now did he?

"Um…yes?" He answers as a question. Um, now he's not exactly sure if he does want the real answer. Maybe ignorance really IS bliss. But he's already there, so he might as well find out. He puts his hands up in front of him just in case she decides to try one of those right hooks again. Oh, but what about the knife? He's only got two hands. He opts for the face.

She doesn't do any of those things though; she just points her finger at him and lets him have it. "I don't give a flying fig whether you have a wife or a mistress or a freakin harem stashed away in that den of iniquity that you call a brothel!"

She doesn't. Well, maybe just a little. But she's not going to let him know that. She had learned at her mother's knee that all men wanted was a quick screw. She wasn't about to let herself pine after one of them, especially the king of manwhores, only to have him leave her for some prettier little thing down the road. Better to keep it light and unattached.

"Okay." Mark answers, a little overwhelmed at her vehemence. He thought his brothel was pretty nice. It was set up as an exact copy of Almack's in London. No one ever said he didn't have a sense of humor.

"No! It is not okay! If you had just told us that you were already married to Addison we wouldn't have had to have gone through all of this!" She says with a swipe of hands that is meant to encompass the predicament that they now found themselves in. "Meredith only married Derek because she wanted her sister's husband! Don't you get it?!"

Another loud crack of thunder sounds in the silence, but they are too caught up in each other to notice. If they had, they might have noticed that it sounded more akin to the cracking of wood than thunder. But people will be people.

Mark, a little surprised, utters, "This is what you're mad about? Not that I didn't TELL you that I was married, but that by me being married to Addison your little friend would have never gotten married?"

Christina is silent, but the look on her face tells him that he has hit the nail on the head. "You ARE jealous." He says with dawning wonderment. "Not jealous about Addie, but jealous that you now have to share your best friend with some man."

Christina looks mutinous, but she can't deny it. She goes to open her mouth to refute him, but thinks better of it and turns to walk away. This time Mark really does hear the crack of the wood. He can't ignore it. No one can ignore it. A series of cracks pop up through the heart of the ship, shaking the ground on which Christina and Mark stand. But before he can catch their balance, an ear-splitting crackle signals the separation of wood from wood and notifies them of the source of the noise. The mast is breaking.

Mark turns to see the huge de-leafed tree that was bravely supporting their temporary home bending in the wind. Oh, this is so not good. The bend is away from them, but he knows what's going to happen next. Christina is facing away, so she doesn't see the danger. But she'll never make it to the cabin in time. He pounces forward as the mast finally loses its moorings and snaps like a toothpick. The force of the wind sends it barreling toward the front of the ship, but the weight of the sails and the ropes quickly pulls it backward like a boomerang.

He can feel Christina trying to push him off, but it doesn't matter. He flings them both into the cabin seconds before the once mighty sails come careening down on top of them. The sound is deafening. The entire ship bucks and careens as the weight is redistributed over the paltry frame. It's a wonder the ship doesn't buckle from within. The cabin roof is squashed and shaken, but holds its ground. If it wasn't so wet, the dust would have settled. As it is, the ship is now a teaming mass of broken wood and cloth. Oh, and now dead in the water. Except for the incessant rolling of the waves that now send them to and fro. Suddenly, the term 'dead in the water' takes on a whole new meaning. It shouldn't take long for the three ships behind them to catch up with them now.


	21. Chapter 21

**I call this the action/adventure portion of the ride! I've never written anything action/adventurey, but I think it came out pretty good! Plus, I've been building to this for quite a while now. All sorts of secrets and feelings get let out! This fic is coming to a close, but it's not quite over yet!**_  
_

_Suggested Soundtrack: 'Jack Sparrow' by Hans Zimmer (POC)_

Burke stands atop the right hand side of the top deck of his flagship surveying the wrecked shambles of his enemy. Did they not know any better than to go against him? He always got what he wanted. Always. Well, he hadn't gotten Addison, but if he had known that she was used goods already, he wouldn't have wanted her anyway. And she was only a means to an end really. So he hadn't really wanted her, so it didn't count. What he really wanted was the Governorship. And he had had it all locked up right and tight with the King before that Webber character thought to usurp him with his precious Derek Shepherd. Good thing the old fart didn't even know his own daughter was married. Burke laughs at the man's idiocy. In fact, he didn't know that BOTH of his daughters were married. Burke wasn't even sure if Webber was even aware that he HAD another daughter. No, those two were loose screws. The key to this entire thing was Derek. The man was all but his son, in actions rather than name. The recognized daughter he barely saw, the other one he might not even be aware of. No, the key to this was Derek.

The rain and the wind had died down into a cool drizzle, and he can see the first lightening of the sky that indicated a new dawn was coming. Even nature was deciding to cooperate with him. He really thought the wind was going to carry the faster ship away from him. I mean, he knew he would catch up with them eventually, but he was tired of all of this chasing and whatnot. He had absorbed all of the humiliation he could take by letting the numskulls think they had bested him back at Burke Manor. In London he would have had to have arrested them and paid attention to the law. Out here on the open sea he could do whatever he wanted and no one would be the wiser. Too bad the idiots put out a full sail in the middle of a storm. They deserved whatever they got. You'd never catch HIM doing that.

He waits for his crew to secure the lines between the two ships before he sedately jaunts down the ten steps. He stands tall in his dark-blue double-breasted sailor jacket with a hand resting calmly between his lower two buttons. His lapels even have some gold braiding. Why should the lack of military training keep him from looking fashionable? He had seen a portrait with Napoleon doing it in just such a manner and had adopted it ever since. If an upstart Corsican could do it, why couldn't he?

The few men securing the last of the lines look up at him in fear as he approaches, but he gives them no heed. He looks over at the shambles of a ship, the giant mast of a once great vessel, felled across the top of the ship like a downed tree. Instead of leaves though, it is sails and ropes that lie intertwined and shredded between the splintered wood. What a shame.

Just where was everybody though? They hadn't been fired upon. He had thought that strange, but then figured they must know that they had lost already and given up. There wasn't much you could do after your mast broke. If no one found you out on the open sea, or you managed to find your way back or repair it, you could literally starve. He could even consider that he was doing them a favor by 'rescuing' them from a fate worse than death. He turns to his first in command and signals for him to go ahead. If this was a trap, he certainly wasn't going to take the first bullet.

About thirty of his men take the first few steps over the tied together railings. He can see one of the other ships slowly coming alongside the other side of the 'Bounty'. They couldn't escape now even if they wanted to. He watches from the safe side as his men spread out in search of men and weapons. It is slow going though because of all the debris and slick surfaces. It's too bad really, it had been a beautiful ship. He sits back and waits for the cowards to come out and face him. There was more than one way to ferret a fox out of his den.

Derek sits back in the doorway of his cabin waiting for the grimey bastards to move just a few feet more. He was really uncomfortable with his method of fighting. He would much rather be facing them head on with cannons and pistol fire, but there were three times as many of them as there were of them. All of this was Meredith's idea anyway. All of her ideas had worked out pretty well so far, so he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. It had worked on him, hadn't it? And he wasn't even trying to get someone to marry him! Just, you know, best them in a fight and save his own hide and that of his crew, that was all. Just because it was her idea didn't mean she got to enjoy it though. The look on her face when he had ordered Tyler to keep her down below probably didn't bode well for their future married life, but he just couldn't think straight when she was in danger, so it was better this way. And if something happened to her, he just didn't know what he would do with himself. So she was down below, and he was up here hoping Burke's ego was just as big as he thought it was. So far it was working like a charm.

"The Lilly-livered bastard isn't even coming over the side." Alex remarks in a near-whisper behind him.

"I didn't expect anything less from him." Derek answers with nary a surprise. "This is the man that plotted for a Governorship through the fading mind of an old King and the skirts of a pretty woman."

"True." Alex agrees, but then offers, "He could at least walk WITH his men though instead of standing back and letting them do all of the dirty work. It would make our lives a lot easier."

They both gruntily agree with that statement. You wouldn't catch either of them hanging back behind the line of fire. They would both rather be right out in front with sword and pistol drawn at the ready. This only affirmed that what they were doing was right. The only way to beat a Lilly-livered coward was to beat him at his own game.

Derek watches Burke's men make their way through the mess of sails and cloth, picking their way through and over. There is splintered wood and miles of clothe though. Too bad the idiots didn't think to go through the area of the ship that WASN'T covered in debris. Just then Oliver's head pops up from the galley stairwell across the way and signals that all is a go. That meant that Mark and his contingent had made it through the portholes now lined up ship to ship. His wife was an absolute genius.

"That was Oliver. It's a go." Derek tells Alex. Derek nods back at Oliver and his head disappears again.

Alex draws his sword from its scabbard and schools his face in readiness. He takes a few short readied breaths and all is quiet in the cabin again. The steel of Derek's sword sings slightly as it's freed from its own confines, and he inches the door open a few centimeters more. He can't quite see over to the other ship, but he's just going to have to take the chance.

He lets out an ear-piercing whistle. Burke's entire crew freezes in mid-stride. Most of them are filed along the wreck of the mast. Just where he wanted them. Burke stands with his back to his own ship, thinking that all of the action is in front of him. The air is soon rent with the sound of pounding feet. Oliver's contingent pours out from the galley stairs as his and Alex's pours forth from the cabins on their side. And behind Burke comes a smaller but most important contingent led by Mark and, oh my God, Christina. Every member of his crew has his gun or sword raised. They have them surrounded. For now

"We've got you surrounded." Derek calls out to the enemy crew, but really only for Burke's ears.

The surrounded men stop crawling in surprise but very quickly draw their weapons in return. Guns face guns and swords face guns and even a few pikes versus stilettos are present. Derek holds his sword in his left hand but his pistol is aimed directly at Burke's heart. Burke looks momentarily stunned at the change of events, but then turns his cold eyes to Derek. He doesn't even bother with Mark and his men behind him.

"Well, well, what have we have here?" Burke remarks smoothly into the dead calm. No man wants to make a sound and set off someone else's trigger finger.

"It's called an ambush, Burke. I thought you'd be familiar with that." Derek responds as he slowly moves himself forward to get in an even better line of fire. Right now he's kind of off to the left and he'd feel more comfortable being in closer range. He keeps a steady eye out on the other men though. He wouldn't want anyone sneaking in a shot. They have to play this very tightly if they're going to have a shot at getting out of this.

"I never went to someone's home and tried to steal their potential bride away." Burke rejoins, flipping the accusation around onto Derek.

They both keep their eyes perfectly trained on the other as Derek continues to move forward. Burke stays where he is. The two groups of men keep a wary eye on each other.

"She was never your potential bride to begin with. Her father expressly forbid you from taking her hand." Derek vollies back. He really doesn't care what the bastard's explanation is for this, he just needs to keep him talking so that he can get closer.

"The lady was willing. I can't help it if I'm that irresistible." Burke says ingratiatingly.

That must have been too much for Mark, because Derek hears a cock of a pistol behind Burke and Mark calls out, "I wouldn't exactly call 'irresistible' the term I would use for someone who can only get women to marry them at the threat of killing their mother."

Burke snidely looks over his shoulder to acknowledge that anyone is even speaking behind him, and says quietly "At least I didn't accept a bribe to publicly acknowledge that we were never married."

There is nothing from Mark for a few long moments, but then coldly he threatens, "I've never been tempted to shoot a man in the back, but there's always a first time. Why don't you turn around and face me."

Burke smiles coldly, but he doesn't do as suggested. He only watches Derek approach. Derek is barely a foot away now, and he narrows his eyes at the almost calm expression in Burke's eyes. "The only thing I care about is the Governorship. That's the only thing I've ever cared about. Why do you and your supposed mentor fight me at every turn?" Burke asks Derek with almost a wonder in his voice. Almost.

"I've heard about the way you treat your servants and your tenants. You barely treat people in your own social stratosphere with anything but contempt. Do you think I'm going to let someone like you govern the people that I have grown up with? Govern my family? Tortuga is my home. Do I need any more reason than that? I think the real question is why YOU want it so badly." Derek finishes.

Derek is right in front of him when he makes that statement, so he can plain as day see the steely contempt in Burke's eyes. "Isn't it obvious? Haven't you been paying attention?" Burke asks, contempt dripping from his voice, but then continues with, "The Kind is dy-ing. He in fact may be dead already."

Burke elongates the last words, implying that even a simpleton should know this by now. And suddenly it all clicks. Without the King's protection, Burke has no one. Society only acknowledges him because of the influence of the King. Burke's bastard birth will always put him in the shade. But even more so than that, Burke has made a lot of enemies.

"Jumping ship, are we?" Derek utters with just as much contempt. Maybe even more.

Burke decides to ignore Derek's little statement, instead raising his hand to his chin and rubs it absentmindedly. "Now, you seem to be in a sticky situation here."

Derek only raises his eyebrows. He's not about to give anything away.

"Now, you're mast is broken, you are vastly outnumbered." Burke says with a wave toward the other ship even now drawing up aside them. "The other one is just anchored off to the side somewhere."

"I could still take you down with me though." Derek says with a snide smile and a nod toward his gun.

"Yes, but then you would die too, and none of us wants that, now do we?" Burke questions, not really expecting an answer. He barely pauses for breath though before he says, "I myself would rather not kill anyone. It's all just so...messy. All I really want in the Governorship."

Derek thinks to himself over my dead body, but he's not about to say that aloud. He just waits. Burke looks disappointed that Derek doesn't seem more interested, but he gathers himself to utter coolly, "I propose a duel."

"A duel?" Derek says in surprise. Does Burke have any idea who he's talking to? He seems to know everything else about everyone, so he must. Derek even hears Mark give a disbelieving chuckle from behind Burke. Derek is still suspicious though.

"A duel for what?" He asks flatly.

"A duel for your ship. If you win, I promise to let you go. I'll even have one of my ships bring you back to England for repairs." Burke proposes.

"And if you win?" Derek asks in a suspicious tone. He doesn't like the look in Burke's eyes but it sounds like their only viable option.

"You recommend me to Richard as the next Governor. You've had a change of heart, you've gotten to know me. You now think I would make an excellent Governor."

"That's all you want? For me to recommend you as the next Governor?" Derek asks incredulously. It just seems too simple. There's got to be more to this.

"I've told you, all I want is the Governorship." Burke answers steadily.

Derek peruses Burke as he thinks about the proposal. What did he have to lose? They had the upper hand now. They had them surrounded. They could take as many of them out as possible before the other ship's arrived. But then that would leave Meredith, and the rest of the woman, at risk. If it was just him and his crew he would just fight and have it done with. But it isn't just him anymore.

"How do I know you'll keep your word?" He finally asks after a couple of long moments have passed.

Burke looks pleased with his answer. "If there's anything I pride myself on, it's my word." He replies coldly, like Derek has just tried to impugn his honor. That is true. If anything, Burke does pride himself on his honor. Everyone has to have a saving grace, Derek guesses.

"Derek." Mark growls out from the other side of Burke. His voice is a warning. It says don't do it. It says that Derek is crazy.

"It's alright, Mark. If he tries to go back on his word, you go ahead and shoot him." Derek threatens while looking Burke straight in the eye.

"You got it man." Mark answers with relish. Burke just half-smiles and asks, "So we've got a deal then? If I win you recommend me to Richard."

"And if I win you let us go with a friendly escort back to England." Derek confirms.

"We've got a deal then?" Burke asks.

"Deal." Derek answers shortly and drops his arms. He hopes he's doing to right thing. What else have they got to lose?

Mark keeps his gun on Burke as he drops his weapons and releases his coat from his shoulders. Burke does the same. The coat is tossed aside and the pistol put in its holster as he holds out his sword in readiness. Burke draws his sword as well, and the fight is on.

* * *

"I think it's sweet." Izzie says from her knitting perch in one of the taken down galley chairs. 

Meredith just glares at her and goes back to her knitting.

"Poor husbands are like that, dear. Don't take it personally." Adelle remarks from over her own chosen project: an oval embroidery frame. The embroidery needle passes in and out as she remarks, "I think the stupid louts are born with it."

Meredith raises her eyebrows at this bald statement. No wonder this woman and her husband live on almost separate hemispheres. She kind of understands it, but she doesn't. She's always fought her own battles. It's not like she's never handled a pistol or a sword before. I mean, the first time her and Derek met she had been pointing them at HIM. He knew she wasn't some kind of wilting wallflower. He did use her idea in planning the ambush though. That had to count for something. She still angrily pushes her needles together though and the click of the metal comes out a lot louder than it has to.

Her attention is drawn to the other woman in the room though when said other woman remarks angrily, "Yes, they wouldn't actually want us to think for ourselves, now would they?"

Addison has refused anything that screams of domesticity and is reading a book. Meredith would have chosen a book also if the words on the page didn't keep blurring every time she tried to read them. Her concentration was just shot to hell. As it was, her 'sock' was starting more to resemble a giant ball of knots rather than any kind of footwear. It's not like they couldn't hear everything that was going on up there. The ship practically groaned with the sound of all of the men moving around up there. Except racently it had gotten quiet. Too quiet. And all Meredith could hear was the sound of all of their collective needles crunching together when all she wanted to know was how things were going up above.

Plus, she was sitting in a room with her half-sister and the wife of the woman her mother had wronged. She wanted to hate them. She wanted to hate them so much. She had managed to avoid both of them pretty well up until it was time for them to stow away. Why couldn't she be more like Christina and avoid whatever hair-brained notions came into her man's head? Mark had only laughed when Christina had told him not to spout that pig-headed clap-trap at her and walked right past him and out the door. Well, they weren't married. In fact, he was married to the other woman in the room that Meredith was pretty sure was trying to avoid him just as much as Meredith was trying to avoid the fact that she was her sister. Well, half-sister. Just what did one say to a half-sister that the first time you've met is to steal them away from an egotistical maniac bent on marrying them for a Governorship with a husband that was supposed to have been their husband except for the fact that they had been married all along to the man that was supposedly having a relationship with your best friend. Meredith's head hurt just thinking about it. Better to keep knitting.

But she just can't take it anymore. She throws down her 'sock' in disgust and starts pacing the room. "It's too quiet up there."

"You don't know that." Her half-sister says comfortingly. "You yourself said it might take a while. And isn't quiet better than the alternative?"

Meaning sounds of death and dismemberment, Meredith thinks. She did say those things, but those were like things you said to other people to make them feel better. Except they weren't making her feel better.

"Come on, Mer, help me with the knitting. If I'm going to have a baby, I'm going to need all of the baby booties I can get." Izzie remarks calmly from her chair.

"You aren't even pregnant yet, Izz." Meredith remarks testily, but she sits back down anyway. She's not even going to get into the fact that there might not be a baby if both of their husband's and them end of dead. Instead, she takes up her 'sock' again and starts trying to move some needles around. But only because Izzie asked her to.

Luckily, she is interrupted by a knock on the door. All of the woman stop what they are doing and look at each other hesitantly. "Mrs. Shepherd, it's just me, Mooney. The Captain sent me to come get ya." The first mate calls through the door.

Oh thank God. The knitting is quickly forgotten as she runs over and unbolts the door. The unassuming first mate stands there practically ringing his hands. With his squattish stature and salt and pepper hair, he's probably the most similar to what Meredith would think that a real live seaman would look like. And with his quiet and subservient attitude most of the time you would forget that he's even around.

"Is everything alright?" Meredith asks breathily.

"Um…Derek and Burke are about the fight a duel. But the Captain asked for me to…." Mooney answers, but doesn't get to finish because Meredith is already bounding up the stairs. A duel!?!? Of all the cork-brained, pig-headed…..

But she stops at the doorway of the galley stairs when she see's that she is too late. Both men are already at the ready. They have removed their jackets and any extra hindrences and stand perched in a circle on the deck of the enemy ship. All the rest of the men on both sides have moved as far enough to the edges as possible. Meredith moves forward to the wall and stares in terror at the man she loves about the fight a duel with the most under-handed, egotistical, power-hungry man that she has ever heard about.

Both men lean back on their left heels, the right foot forward in the age-old sword-fighting stance. Both blades are long and thin, more similar to thin fencing rapiers than the heavy hunks of steel of ages past. Derek is deceptively relaxed as he seems to almost bounce in place. Burke is more stiff and regal, but looks just as deadly. The entire crowd is quiet as the blades are lifted to the ready. Both men narrow their eyes at the other…..a pregnant pause...and then the loud clank of steel.

Meredith sucks in her breath as the two blades meet and slide past one another. Clank, clank, clank, the blades meet and parry only to be drawn back in a tie. The men are just testing one another. Burke narrows his eyes and shoots his arm out again. Derek vollies and sends Burke's sword back to him.

"There's one thing I've always wanted to know." Burke says conversationally as he draws back his sword.

"What? What it feels like to actually not get what you want?" Derek answers readily as he watches Burke's sword hand. Derek seems to be much more on the defensive, just parrying blows and watching. Burke is more rushing in, trying to stay in control.

"No, how you can work day in and day out with the man that killed your father." Burke asks with nary an inflection, almost like he is having a dinner conversation.

Derek's sword falters for a second, but he quickly raises it up to meet the blow that Burke had tried to jab in his moment of weakness. Meredith gasps at the statement but can do nothing but watch. She should have told him. She should have. Or at least ask him about it. She had wondered about it herself, but had forgotten in the midst of all of their non-stop troubles and adventures.

"Making up lies to unsettle me, now are we?" Derek answers with a powerful answering volley that sends Burke's sword clamoring back with the force. He looks pissed. The words seem to have snapped him out of the defensive and straight into the offensive. He pounds his sword into Burke's over and over again, but Burke meets him just enough to keep himself in the fight.

Burke starts to laugh. A laugh filled with evil mirth and glee at someone else's expense. "You don't know?" He asks with an amused tone, and when he sees Derek's piercing stare, continues to laugh and say, "Oh my God, this is priceless. You really don't know!"

"My father. Died. Out to sea." Derek insists between each thrust. It is obvious that Derek has taken the upper hand. His anger at what Burke is saying has pushed his sword hand to act faster and harder. Burke doesn't seem to be fighting quite as hard either though. He just seems….amused.

"You father was hanged for piracy by the Governor of Tortuga." Burke announces with glee. Derek's eyes become almost feral, but Burke ignores the dangerous look to say, "One Richard Webber, as is."

Derek has had enough. With a flick of his wrist he slices a deep cut across Burke's hand that sends to sword flying. Burke screams and crouches back to hold his now severely bleeding hand. Derek points his weapon straight at Burke's heart and demands, "You take that back."

Burke only sneers. "I can't take it back. It's true."

"I said take it back." Derek demands again as he pushes Burke farther and farther back along the deck. The men move aside as Derek pushes Burke back onto the nearest wall. Burke isn't about to give in though.

"You've gotten what you've wanted. You've won. I'll send your ship back to England with an escort. But I am telling the truth. Ask him yourself." Burke answers as the sword moves up to his neck. He gulps. His eyes stay centered on the sword as his hand holds on to the other in barely repressed pain.

Derek must see something in Burke's eyes though, because he lowers the sword. Reluctantly, but he does lower it. The entire contingent of men from both ships relaxes. And one Meredith Grey. But Burke still has one trick still up his sleeve.

"Oh, but one more thing before you leave." Burke announces silkily. "Mooney?"

The half-contingent of men that is the 'Bounty's' crew turns to look at Mooney. Meredith does too. Only to find a pistol aimed at her head.

"Mooney?" She asks uncertainly.

"I'm sorry Ms. I really am sorry." He answers with a stutter. He really does look sorry. Like he would like to be anywhere else but here. But he still has a pistol pointed at her head.

"What is the meaning of this?" Derek demands. Whether he is asking Mooney or Burke is uncertain. Mooney answers.

"I'm really sorry, Sir. He's got me mum."

And that's all Meredith needs to know. She does remember him mentioning that his mother still resides in England. That every chance he gets he takes a trip back to see her and the rest of his family. If it wasn't for some pesky legal problems in his home country, he would pack everything and move back there in a trice. And a lot of other things become clear also.

"You knew we were coming?" Derek demands from Burke.

"Of course." Burke answers regally.

"You knew I was already married when I showed up at your house? You knew I was coming to get Miss Webber?" Derek demands disbelievingly.

"When are you going to realize that I know everything?" Burke answers with a tug of his sleeves. He moves himself a little off of the wall and confidently strides toward Mooney and Meredith.

"Don't you move. If you get any closer to her, I will cut you." Derek promises with a raise of his sword.

"If you touch me. If any of you touch me." He says with a steely gaze at Mark, Christina, Alex, or anyone else that was trying to think of something. "Mooney is going to shoot her. Is that right?"

Mooney looks like he's about to faint, and the pistol wavers a bit in his hand, but he holds steady.

"What do you want? You couldn't win the duel, so you want me to vouchsafe for you anyway?" Derek demands.

"Vouchsafe? No." Burke answers cruelly. "You're going to be my bait. For some reason, the Governor seems to favor you above anyone else. His real children, your wife included, he could care less about." He says as he points over to Meredith and a shocked Addison that has just come up the galley steps.

Meredith and Addison look at each other, but neither says a word.

Derek is silent as he looks from Meredith, the gun aimed at her head, and back to Burke. "If I go with you, you'll let them go?"

Meredith gasps and tries to break free from Mooney's grasp. "Please don't move Ms." Mooney says in an almost scared voice.

Meredith stops moving and gives Mooney her most ardent glare. He wilts before her, clearly wanting to be anywhere else but there, but he keeps the gun aimed at her. She turns back to Derek.

"Derek, don't do this." She asks with a treble in her voice.

But she can see in his stance that he has already made his decision. "And if I do this, you will let them go?" Derek asks with steely resolve.

Meredith's heart drops. He's always been the one to pit the responsibility onto himself. Stupid, pig-headed….she thinks to herself again as tears start to blur her vision.

"Yes." Burke answers in a clipped tone.

"Fine." Derek answers just as shortly, but then slides his vision over to Meredith. "May I have a word?" He asks Burke as he indicates Meredith.

"Get rid of the sword first." Burke says with a nod to the mentioned object.

"Get rid of the pistol then." Derek negotiates.

Burke looks between Derek and Mooney and then indicates for Mooney to withdraw his weapon. Mooney puts his pistol back in its hostler, but he stays close by just in case.

Derek hands his sword off to Mark and walks up to Meredith. He takes her now tear-stained face in his hands and places a short kiss on her lips. She can see the determination in the set of his face, but it doesn't stop another tear from tracking down her face.

"It's alright, Meredith. I'll be alright. He just wants the Governorship, that's all." He tells her.

"But…" She tries to interject, knowing that trusting Burke to do only that is akin to suicide.

He stops her though with, "Meredith, nothing is more important to me than your life. Nothing." He says with fervency.

"Derek…Derek, I love you so much." She says with now a dripping nose and red-rimmed eyes.

"I love you too." He says with a twinkle to his eyes and what may mysteriously may be a catch to his voice. But he gets it under control to say with an edge of meaningfullness, "Just do whatever Mark says, and I'll see you soon."

Mark? Why would she do what Mark says? She sees the two men share a look, but stays quiet. Something is going on here. He looks into her eyes one more time filled with the love that he is even now proclaiming in deed as well as word, and then lets go. Her hands are now empty and she wants to rush out to him and never let go.

But Burke's men have already grabbed on to his hands. They tie them behind him and tie them together with tight ropes. Her whole body starts to shake as they take him back over the side to the other ship and untie the first of the ropes connecting the two boats. Crews sort themselves out, ropes become untangled, and still she stands staring out at the back of the man she loves. Mooney joins the crew of the other boat that will be escorting them back to England and she is left surrounded by her friends. But she only really wants one person.

The two boats separate and the waves toss them apart. Derek is lead to the galley steps and through a door. And still she stands there. It is only when he disappears out of site that she turns to Mark.

"What did he mean that I should do whatever you say?" Meredith demands as if snapped from a trance.

"We had a contingency plan in case this didn't work out." Mark answers sheepishly.

And suddenly Meredith knows it all. "Mark Sloan, are you telling me that you knew all along that he planned on sacrificing himself?" She demands shrilly.

Mark can only stare back, begging her with his eyes to forgive her. She turns to look at the other men aboard. Even at Christina. They all knew. That's what their faces tell her. They all knew. The bile rises in her throat and she runs over to throw up over the side of the ship. Christina runs over and pulls her hair back off of her face.

"But we have a plan, Meredith, we have a plan." Christina utters in the most unsettled voice Meredith has ever heard from her.

And as she loses whatever small amount of sustenance she had managed to keep down over the last 24 hours, she prays that it better be one damn good plan. Otherwise, she might never get the chance to tell Derek that he was going to be a father.


	22. Chapter 22

_Two months later…_

Burke is having a GREAT day. Today is his first official day as Governor of Tortuga. He had had to wait around for a week in the Northern Atlantic for his other ships to join him (most couldn't be ready in the short time he needed to leave in order to catch The Bounty). Then it had taken a good month to reach Tortuga, another couple of weeks to breech the island's defenses, and then another to round up all the renegades and put them where they belonged: in prison. He was even now waiting for a ship passing by on it's way to the Orient so that he could pass off two of his most important prisoners: the Honorable former Governor and his little whelp of an assistant. Oh no, they weren't in the same prison together. They weren't going to conspire together and run off on him. They had put him through enough trouble. He wasn't about to let them escape the fate they had decreed the minute they had decided to go against him. Beat him in a duel, now would he. Maybe he'd enjoy dueling with some Chinamen. Burke laughs at the thought.

He makes the final flourishes on his first speech as Governor, a singular event he had decided to hold himself in order to announce himself to his subjects. It was best to start off the way you meant to go on. Plus, they needed to see him out and about so they would know just who they were dealing with. Maybe he needed to make an example of a few people, preferably with some cat o-nine tails, to let them know that he meant business. Yes, that's what he would do.

He throws some sand over the document and stands up to survey his domain. He stands up from now HIS mahogany desk and sighs with contentment. These were HIS books, this was HIS Governor's mansion, and he was master of his domain of everything he could see before him. It was a nice feeling. Maybe he'd have Mrs. Malabright (his housekeeper) bring in some of that new tea in those special little Chevra tea cups he had espied in the dining room earlier.

_Wabaam!_

Burke turns his head at the giant thud that had just ricocheted off of one of HIS French doors. If one of his subjects thought they could get away with debasing HIS property, they would be the first to be made example of this evening. He walks quickly over to the offending sound, and steps back just in time to have it happen AGAIN. He yanks the door open, preparing to curse out the offending person, and finds…

A man. In a bag. A coarse brown potato bag, to be precise. Sprawled out on HIS veranda. What the? He kicks the bag just to make sure that it was what had in fact knocked up against the door and has to quickly step back when whoever is in there kicks BACK.

"I've had just about enough of this." He says to himself as he grabs the hood off of the offending object to discover…..Mooney.

"Mooney?" He asks him in confusion.

Mooney can only moan back at him because of a rag stuck in his mouth. He is about to tug the rag out of his mouth to ask just what the hell was going on when he espies a note around Mooney's neck that says "Read me."

Mooney moans at him to take the rag out of his mouth, but Burke ignores him and snaps the note from the string tied to Mooney's neck. He reads:

"Surrender."

Is this some king of joke? He turns it over, but that is the only word written anywhere.

"Explain yourself." Burke demands to Mooney.

Mooney just moans at him. With a disgusted sigh, Burke grabs the rag out of his mouth and demands again, "What is the meaning of this?"

Mooney doesn't answer though. He just points his finger out to sea. Burke's jaw drops. A good two dozen or more warships with their sails unfurled lay spread out along the islands horizon. And what must be about a couple hundred guns are pointed…right at him.

* * *

Mark snaps shut the spyglass and turns to Christina, "It's done. Now all we have to do is wait for Meredith and Alex."

"I still can't believe you let a three month pregnant woman go on a rescue mission." Christina comments from beside him.

They were both on Mark's flagship, front and center, of all 24 ships. Christina had her own boat to Captain, but she figured for this moment she would like to share it with Mark. It was really all due to him, as little as she would like to admit it.

_About an hour after Derek had been taken away….(In Derek's cabin)..._

"_Alright Mark, tell us this plan. And it had better be a damn good one, for your sake." Christina says to him as she holds a weepy Meredith in her arms and strokes her hair._

_Mark looks at a broken Meredith a prays that it is a good plan too. When Derek and him had talked about it, it had seemed like a good back-up plan. But now starting at a red-rimmed and blotchy Meredith, he wasn't so sure._

_He shoots up from his chosen seat at Derek's desk and begins pacing. "Um…well, did I ever tell any of you that I'm an Earl?" He announces uncertainly, while facing away from the rest of the group. You could hear a pin drop._

_He turns around to very satisfactorily see six identical jaws dropped, one jaw on a certain red-head that had already known set mutinously, equally joined by her mother._

"_You're an…." Izzie remarks wonderingly as she peruses his attire. He can see it on their faces that they're all thinking the same thing: so why is he hiding out in a brothel in Tortuga?_

_Addison stares daggers at him, so he is compelled to answer, "Well, I could be if everyone didn't think I was dead."_

"_Everyone thinks you're…dead?" George repeats unbelievingly._

_He kind of smiles at that. It was kind of nice to think that he had pulled it off so completely. But then he looks at Christina. She looks mutinous. He can deal with a mutinous Addie more than he can deal with a mutinous Christina, so he turns to Addison and says, "Yes."_

"_Because you killed someone." She says sharply._

"_Because it was better off for everyone if I was dead." He says in a low tone._

_Her jaw clicks even tighter together, if that is at all possible. He starts to say something again, but she shoots up from her chair, stomps over to him, and with heaving breath says, "Maybe you should have let the other people in your life decide that!"_

_He is momentarily stunned. "But you….but you didn't want me."_

_Her hands clench at her side. "I didn't know what I wanted! I was 17 years old Mark! 17!" She rails as she throws her clenched fists up in the air to shake them at him. He opens his mouth again, but she counters with, "And you were 18, so don't give me any of that crap about being older than me."_

_She does know him because that was exactly what he was going to say. _

"_Mark, we were kids. Kids! You wanted nothing to do at the time but show your father that you were just as much of a scoundrel as he painted you to be. I wanted nothing more than to rebel against a father that didn't seem to care whether I was alive or not."_

"_That's not true, dear." Adelle interjects._

_She turns to her mom and says in a lower tone, "I know, mom." Then she turns to stare meaningfully at Meredith, but doesn't say anything and turns back to Mark. Everyone there is staring at them like they've both just grown two heads, but she doesn't care. She has to get this off of her chest._

"_I wanted you." She tells him truthfully._

"_I know." He remarks smugly, remembering all those afternoons of kissing under that willow tree. _

_They both are smiling as they remember that summer of hidden kisses and caresses. How in defiance of their family, they had snuck off to Gretna Green and gotten married. Addie had gotten a friend of hers to corroborate that she had been at her house for the entire time period. She could still remember the elation and the giddiness that she had felt standing over that anvil as the priest wound that wedding cloth around their entwined hands. She had lied about her age of course. She remembers the wedding night. Oh, she remembers it. And the many nights after that she had snuck out to meet him after they got back. A good half year of love given and love returned._

"_And then you went off for your season." He says with a certain steeliness to his eyes._

"_And you challenged a man whose only crime was kissing me on a balcony to a duel!" She rejoins._

_A look of sheepishness makes its way over his features. And then guilt. And then a flatness._

_Their love had been magnetic and instant and passionate. He had been a hot-head of 18 and then some. A man used to taking what he wanted but not having to deal with the consequences. A man in love with a fiery young woman with hair to match, in both places. They had loved each other with a passion that burned so brightly that it had brought them down. He had killed a boy, probably not any older than him at the time, because he had dared to kiss his wife. A wife that no one knew was his because until her 18th birthday she couldn't make of her own decisions. He had been so eaten up by the guilt of talking Addie in marrying him and of depriving her of her season, that he had just reacted on feeling. Maybe they made those rules for a reason. Deep down he didn't feel like he deserved her anyway._

_He had had to leave the country. He had seen the sneer on his father's face when he had told him. He had seen the fear and loathing on Addie's face when he had told her what he had done. He could still hear the recriminations his father spewed in his head to this day. About how he wasn't any son of his. That he had always been worthless. That he always thought about himself and never anyone else. That he never thought through the consequences of his actions. And he knew what he had to do._

"_Mark, we were both young. We both did stupid things." She offers conciliatorily. It has, after all, been many years since all of this happened. But then her voice hardens. "But that still doesn't explain why you are here."_

_He doesn't say anything. He just reaches into his coat pocket and produces a thick set of papers. They might as well be the only two people in the room. He hands them to her. She reluctantly takes them and opens them to the first page. Annulment papers. She sucks in her breath. They are old and yellow, crinkled and creased with time. _

"_I had those drawn up when I left the Country. I went to your father in Tortuga. I confessed everything." He says with a pleading to his eyes._

_Her hands start to shake, making the paper crinkle loudly. She knows what she's going to hear next. She gulps._

"_He imprisoned you, didn't he?" She asks._

"_Yes." He answers simply._

"_And told everyone you were dead." She says in newfound understanding. Her arms drop to her sides with the papers still in one hand and she looks off into the distance of the cabin at what can only be memories and long forgotten moments. Everything starts to fall into place._

"_But you escaped." She says with a little smile and looks back at him. If there's one thing she knows, it's that no one could keep Mark imprisoned for long. He just has to be free._

_He returns the smile and says, "Yes."_

"_And let everyone think you were dead." She says with an upraised eyebrow._

_He clears his throat heavily, but eventually gruffly says, "Yes."_

_This all makes sense to her. She knows Mark never thought he was good enough for anyone. She remembers all those times he would tell her about the hateful things his father would say to him. She had never understood until this moment just how deep that self-hatred had gone._

"_But why are you here NOW." She asks with a soul-weary vehemence. "Why after all these years? Why not just stay dead? Why even tell me this at all?"_

_Mark stares at her blankly. _

"_Because of Burke." Christina suddenly interjects as she separates herself from Meredith and walks up to them._

_Mark looks at Christina, but he still doesn't say anything. His eyes tell her that he wants to say something, but his lips won't move._

"_It's because of Burke, isn't it? You over-heard us talking about Derek marrying Addison so that Burke couldn't have her and the Governorship and you wormed your way onto our ship? That's what this has been about this entire time." She says with her voice rising. "This didn't have anything to do with me! Or Meredith. Or helping us out at all! This was about you and your stupid idea of being chivalrous! I…I….I hate you!"_

_Christina looks like she's about to give him another right hook, so he quickly grabs both of her hands and holds them in front of her. She tries urgently to pull her hands away, but he won't let her. "It's not like that. It's not like that at all." He says as he tries to get her to look at him. "Well, partly it is, but partly it's because I love you."_

_THAT stops her. "Wha….wha…?" She says over and over, her lips flapping around but not able to form the word._

"_I love you, you nincompoop. If I was married to her, I couldn't well as ask you to marry me, now could I?" He says with a sudden blindingly bright smile. It felt good to finally say the words. The look on her face didn't make him feel so well though._

"_But you don't believe in marriage." She says, her whole face slack with surprise. But then she looks over at Addie and says, "Well, I guess you do because you've been married this entire time." With the final word, she finally does manage to yank her hands free._

_Addie is clearly surprised out of her head. Mark and….this woman? The other woman's apparent rejection at his words seems to hurt Mark, because he doesn't try to grab her hands again._

"_I never had a reason to NOT be married." He says with feeling. She only stares back at him with her stunned expression, so he continues to Addie, "When I heard you were getting married, and to the next Governor of Tortuga, I knew there was a good chance you would find out that I was alive, so I hopped on this journey to bring you the papers. I thought you were happy. That you had found true love at last, like I had."_

_He gives Christina a meaningful look, and tells the rest of his story to her. "After I escaped, I made a new life for myself in the Caribbean. At first it was just to get back at Addie's father for what he had done. Or maybe it was to punish myself for what I had done. I don't know. But I took up the Black Hawk persona (the rest of the room gasps, but Mark doesn't take his eyes off Christina). Mainly to annoy Richard, but also to make a living for myself. The brothel is just a front. I've got them all over the Atlantic seaboard as ports of safe haven. I can turn into Mark Sloan, brothel owner, and Black Hawk is suddenly nowhere to be found. Do you see what I'm saying?" _

_Christina does see what he's saying. A whole lot of things suddenly come clear to her as well. The 'I love you' part she'll have to address another day, but for now they have something a whole lot more important thing to address. Like an imprisoned Derek. And how the hell they're going to get him back. "So how many ships do you have?" She asks._

"_Um…a lot." He answers with a slow grin because she's not yelling at him anymore. There may be hope just yet._

"_And this was your plan with Shepherd?" She asks with dawning understanding._

"_We just have to make it to England and we can start gathering them together." He says with a fresh twinkle to his eye. If anyone was to describe it, they might even say it was piratical._

And that's how it had all started. They let Burke's ship tow them back to England, Mark announced his undeadness to the cousin that had claimed the Earldom, set up Addie as his Countess, his pirate minions sent out messages to gather all his ships on Lesser Tortuga, and grabbed the fastest ship he could get his hands on that would take them back to the Caribbean. The 'Bounty' was being repaired. He had told the rest of them that he would return it when all the repairs were done, but he had no such intentions. It wasn't the fastest ship in the Caribbean for nothing. Plus he had to irk Richard somehow.

It had taken them a couple of weeks in England to accomplish everything, a good month to travel down to the Caribbean, and another couple to gather all of the ships together, but here they were. Meredith, Alex, and about 10 of his most trustest men were even now waiting for the cover of nightfall to rescue Derek and Richard. They only had to wait for the signal before they blew little Burkie-poos ships to smithereens. He really couldn't wait to do that.

"_I still can't believe you let a three month pregnant woman go on a rescue mission." Christina comments from beside him._

"Do you really think I could have stopped her?" Mark asks Christina with a little devilish twinkle.

Ever since that little talk on the Bounty, Christina hadn't quite thawed to him, but she didn't drink at all hours and she certainly hadn't tried to hit him again. He was married to Addison still, but that would end as soon as he conveniently died again. This way she would get to be a widowed Countess and never have to depend on her father or any other man again. She had told him that she would be proud to be his countess, even if it was only for a couple of months. He felt it was the least he could do for abandoning her all those years ago. The woman he really cared about was right here in front of him though.

Instead of answering his inquiry about Meredith, though, she surprises him with, "Did you really mean what you said about marrying me?"

His head whips around at the sudden question, and he answers truthfully, "Yes."

"Would I get to have my own ship?" She asks without looking him in the eye.

"You can have anything you want." He answers truthfully.

"Alright then." She answers with a little shrug to her shoulders.

Okay, he's confused now. "Alright what?" He asks.

She turns to him and a wonderful little smile that lights up her whole face is his answer. "Let's get married." But then she schools her features to not show anything. But he saw it.

"You mean it?" He asks in disbelief.

"Yeah, don't make a big deal out of it or anything." She answers non-chalantly. But it is too late, because he has already grabbed onto her and started twirling her around in the air. They both laugh with the happiness of it all. He is soon out of breath and must put her down. But he doesn't let go. And neither does she. He knows he's made the right choice though, when she remarks "But first, let's blow some things up."

He couldn't agree more.


	23. Chapter 23

**Welcome to the end of my foine pirating adventure (minus a few epilogues). But this is the end. The part where the story all comes together and everyone either has their happy ending or comeuppance. Tee hee.**

It is dark. Again. Or Derek guesses that he should say that it is night dark, not day dark. There are no windows in here (Here being the jailhouse that he had especially help Richard build with all improvements possible. Oh, the irony that his own maneuverings now made it impossible to escape.) He wouldn't even be able to tell if it was daytime if there wasn't a slight lightening of the light through the crack under the door. He knows there are large open windows in the entrance. He doesn't know how many nights it's been since the last time he saw them. It must be a lot now. He didn't have a pen or a knife or even a pointy rock to even etch in the passing of the days on the wall. When he had first gotten here, he had been able to remember the days. But many many days later and a paltry amount of gruel a day, had made him forget.

He used to get up and walk around, prowl around the very confined room, end on end, but sometime ago it had just gotten too hard. He knew he wasn't starving to death, but he might as well be. Burke was giving him just enough food to stay alive and not a morsel more. God, what he wouldn't give for some grapes. He didn't know why it was grapes, but every time he thought about food, he thought about grapes. He remembers feeding someone grapes. Playing with grapes. Oh yes, Meredith. Meredith had been feeding HIM grapes. How long ago had that been? Wheel lessons. He snorts at the thought. Who would have ever thought he'd be giving his wife lessons on how to steer a ship? REAL lessons. Not just the fake, oh here, feel that hard wood beneath your fingertips? Okay, give it back. Nope, HIS Meredith probably couldn't beat a man in shear steering strength, but she'd probably think of some way to make the other guy think they'd lost. Oh Meredith, where are you? I've been here for oh so really a long time.

_Tink. Tink. Tink._

What was that sound? I remember that sound. What is that sound?

_Bang!_

Oh, I definitely know THAT sound. Pistols?

"What was that?" "We're under attack!" "Get the guns." He hear's the guards shout to each other.

They're under attack? Is this a good thing? He'd like to get up off of the lumpy mattress and look, but his limbs just seem to heavy today to accomplish it. An excitement in his heart starts to build though. Could it be? Could it actually be…Meredith? He doesn't want to get his hopes up though.

_Kaboom!_

Was that a canon?!?! He tilts his head sideways so that he can stare at the door. He hears the sound of running feet, a hurried "One! Two! Three!" and his door is suddenly violently flung back off its hinges and a figure comes running into the room and over to the bed.

"Derek! Derek!" The sweetest voice he has ever heard says to him. Her voice comes out as if on the other side of a tunnel, even though he knows that she's right next to him.

He feels hands on the two sides of his face and closes his eyes in relief. Meredith. It's Meredith, she's come. "Derek! Are you alright?" She calls again.

Meredith looks down at the still figure on the bed and wants to cry. There's just enough light from the doorway to let her know that it's him, but something is wrong.

"Oh, Meredith, you came!" He cries out in the most forlorn voice she's ever heard. And then there is wetness on her fingers.

"Of course I came, silly! Why wouldn't I come?" She says gently as at the same time she moves her hands around on him to try and assess just how bad it is.

"It's just been a long time, Mer." Is all he says as her fingers come across a much thinner Derek. A dangerously thin Derek. A Derek that probably been on gruel, if she can judge from the bits and pieces on the bowl next to the bed. She had imagined a lot of things, but somehow it hadn't been as bad as this. She wants to weep as she feels his ribs jutting out underneath a raggedy shirt. Damn that Burke!

"I know Der, I know." She says as she once again brings her hands up to his face and wipes her fingers lovingly through his hair. He was a little warm, but nothing dangerous. He just needed some sustenance in him. "I got here as soon as I could."

He must remember something though, because he gets agitated, and asks, "But what about Burke? Where's Burke?"

"It's alright." She says as she tries to quiet him. Just where the hell is Alex? They must be having just as much of a problem with Webber. She takes a quick look at the door, but doesn't hear anyone coming, so she turns back to Derek and says, "Burke's a little busy right now. With Mark."

"Mark? Why would…oh yeah." He muses just as Alex comes tearing in.

"Oliver, One-eye, and Laird have got Webber. How bad is he?" Alex asks as he comes to a winded stop in front of Mer. Then he just looks at the once virile man lying on a dirty cot in what can barely be called a room.

"I think he just needs some food. He's got a slight fever, but other than that he seems fine." Meredith rattles off in her Meredith is fine voice that tells him that she is anything but fine. Alex deduces from what she hasn't said is that he wasn't beaten. Thanks be to God for some small favors. Alex sighs in relief and calls into the hallway, "Come on George."

Meredith turns to Derek and says, "We're going to try and pick you up, okay?"

"Where are we going?" He says with still closed eyes as Meredith moves to the head of the bed and starts lifting him up by the shoulders.

George moves his feet off of the bed, so that they are hanging off of the side. Derek clings on to her, but then freezes in surprise. "Meredith…I think you've gotten fat." He says in almost a dream state.

"I have not gotten fat." She says with a suppressed laugh. She can see Alex and George grinning a bit too.

Meredith continues to prop his head up as Alex jumps behind him on the bed to lift him up from the other side. They've got him into a sitting position, one arm over Alex's shoulder and the other around Meredith, and they are just about to lift him, when two and two come together in Derek's head. "Well, if you're not fat, then…"

A long pause occurs while Alex and Meredith try to lift him and George tries to get in under Meredith too. Derek just floats around trying to grasp the concept that his brain is trying to tell him. "Meredith, are you….are you….?" He tries to ask, but can't quite get the words out.

He starts hyperventilating and jerking around, so Meredith hands off arm-pit duty to George and gives him a great big hug from the front. She wraps her arms as far around him as she can get and lays her face against his chest. He immediately quiets down. She can feel just how weak he is though, and his heart is bouncing around a million times faster than it should be.

"Meredith…I…Meredith, I had no idea. If I'd known, I wouldn't have…" He says with ragged breathing. She knows what he's trying to say: he wouldn't have sacrificed himself. None of that matters now though. He is alive. That's all that matters.

"I know." She says softly in his chest. "I know. I didn't know myself until I threw up in front of Mrs. Webber and she asked me when I was due."

That makes him laugh. And for the first time, he wraps his arms around her ever so slightly, and she knows that everything is going to be alright. She holds onto him and relishes the sound of his laughter.

"Hey Mer." Alex grunts from right next to her. Alex. She almost forgot her was there.

She moves her head to stare into Alex's eyes staring right at her with an amused expression. "Burke. Ship. Rescue." He says in short code, reminding her that they still have to get the two men out to the dingy and onto the ship before they are actually safe.

"Come on, Der, we've gotta rescue you." Meredith kids, as she scoots to help out George.

"Yeah, I'd say we're about even after this." Alex remarks smugly.

"What'ya mean?" George asks from the other side.

"Well, we were the ones that kidnapped him before. Now we're rescuing him, so I say were even after this." Alex explains as as a threesome they lead Derek out the door.

"Nope, not true." Derek kicks in, and Meredith is starting to think he's a lot farther gone than she thought, when he remarks, "If Meredith hadn't kidnapped me, I'd be living in a loveless marriage, wouldn't have met the love of my life, and wouldn't have a baby on the way. So I'd say you guys have saved me times infinity."

There's nothing they can say to that.

* * *

Meredith awakes in an unfamiliar cabin in a semi-familiar ship, but it is as if she is seeing it for the first time. It's very serviceable with just a bed and a couple of chests, being the ships second best and only cabin, but she sees it in an entirely new light. In the last two months it has taken them to set their plan in motion and sail here, she has existed in a dream world. She's waded through day after day with the hopes that Derek was okay. That he wasn't dead. Every time she had thought about his face those few seconds before he disappeared into Burke's hold, her heart would give a little clench and she would turn to talking or doing something to get him back. If she ever was able to get him back. 

In the beginning, she didn't even have the baby to think about. She knew she was supposedly having one; the daily reminder of nausea making her not able to ignore it entirely. But then little by little the baby had made itself known. Her breasts had gotten a little larger and tender where she had smacked George upside the head one day for accidentally bumping up against her. A small amount of weight had started to settle around her hips and then a little bump had flared out. During the day, she had ignored these changes, but at night it was hard not to run her hand around the new little bump and dream about getting to tell Derek about her. Within a couple of weeks of losing Derek she had had a dream about a little girl with waves of blonde hair streaming out behind her. If anyone asked, that was what had kept her going these past few months. But she didn't talk about it. Not with anyone. It was better to do and plan and not think than to acknowledge that he might not be there when they got there.

But they had found him. Oh, they had found him. He had been delirious with hunger (damn that Burke!) and didn't even have the strength to stand on his own, but he had been alive. And that's all that had mattered. At first site of him lying there breathing and very much alive all of the strain and worry that had worked itself into every crevice of her body had relaxed and a little sparkle of joy had come back into her life. Then he had called her fat and everything had been alright. She had rehearsed a speech where she yelled and screamed at him for being all noble and self-sacrificing and putting himself in this mess, but the moment he had cried and held her when he had found out about the baby it had all sieved away. He was alive, they had a baby on the way, and they loved each other. That's all that mattered.

After being fed as much sops and ale as he could handle last night, all he had had strength to do last night was hold her. But oh he had held her. As soon as she had crawled into bed with him, he had spooned her up against him, threw an arm around her waist, and buried his face in her hair. It couldn't have been that comfortable, but that's the way he had held her all night: wrapped around her with his hand on her belly, like he couldn't quite believe that he was actually there. She didn't mind. Not one bit. She smiles just thinking about it.

But now it is morning and she is alone. Or more late morning if the strong sunlight pushing under the door and through the cracks in the wood are any indication. She can hear the muted sounds of the seagulls crying out to each other. Carried across the water is also the sound of many boats creaking and swaying with the men upon them. Today is the day. Today is the day they get back at Burke for all of the horrible things that he has done to them. But just how did Derek manage to get out of bed? There's only way to find out. She reluctantly throws herself out of the bed and yawns. She's just so tired lately. But it's a good kind of tired.

She puts a hand on her stomach and says, "Good morning baby."

And it is a good morning. She grabs one her dresses that had been let out at the seams and goes to find just where Derek has gone to.

* * *

Derek had awoken lucid and contented this morning surrounded by oranges and vanilla. At first he had thought it was another dream born of need and not enough food, but then she had sighed. Sighed in her sleep a happy contented sigh that told him all he needed to know. The last two months of torture and self-doubt pass away like a bad dream and his reality stares him straight in the face. The reality of Meredith and, he can't still quite believe it, a baby. He had kept his hand on the little bump that was the only indication that a little life was growing inside of her. Well, not the only thing, but he didn't have the strength to quite finish the thoughts about larger breasts and more shapely hips. Plus, there was something he needed to do. 

He was going to be a father. And it suddenly made issues about his own father seem so much more poignant and less important all at the same time. He had always thought that his father had died at sea. He had spent many moments as a child staring out at the cool blue undulations and wondered just how his father had died. His mother would never talk about. No one on Tortuga would talk about it. And now he knew why. Had Richard really had his father killed? It put an entirely new spin on their relationship. It hurt him, it hurt him deeply, to think that the man that he had really come to see as his father, would keep something like that from him. They had been separated by thick walls and constant surveillance in the prison, but that barrier wasn't there anymore. He suddenly had to find out the truth. He reluctantly tears himself away from Meredith, slowly goes to pull on some clothes, and painstakingly makes his way to find Richard.

* * *

Meredith walks up the galley stairs leading to the Captain's top deck. When she had come out of the cabin, she had heard two men's voices murmuring to each other: one very familiar and one from long ago. He must have gone to find Richard. She should have known. As the two men come into site, she can see both sitting on opposite sides of a medium-sized table with breakfast and a tea service set out before them. They both look tired. They've both gone through quite an ordeal over the last few months and then skinniness of their frames and bone-deep tiredness in their faces shows it all. Neither had touched any food though. Both were sitting in subdued quietness fiddling with tea cups. It's kind of funny to see two grown men sipping at tea cups and saucers, but their postures are anything but funny. 

She freezes though when she hears Derek as, "Richard, why didn't you tell me?"

She must be coming in at the middle, because Richard doesn't have to ask what Derek is talking about.

"I…" Richard answers with hesitation, but then sees Meredith. "I…I…know you."

Uh oh, she's been found out. She finishes her ascent and both men watch her as she approaches: Richard in confusion, Derek with joy. She ignores Richard for a moment to walk up to Derek and put herself up against his side. He puts his arm around her and they just relax into each other. But then she peaks up to see Richard still looking at her with that perplexed look.

Derek looks up too and says, "Richard, this is Meredith. My wife. And your…"

But she stops him. She puts her hand up onto his lips and shakes her head in the negative. He looks at her strangely, but complies anyway. She turns to Richard.

"I came to see you ten years ago." She starts out simply.

And then the light bulb goes off in his eyes. "You…."

"I thought you were my father. My mother told me that you were my father." She tells him pointedly.

She can see the thoughts whirring around in his head as he must be thinking back to the day she had come to see him. And maybe even farther.

"But that's…."

"Impossible." She finishes for him. At Derek's surprised noise, she turns to him and says, "Addie told me."

"That I can't have children." Richard finishes.

Meredith and Richard share a look, maybe them both remembering their last meeting: Meredith so naïve and young and Richard so adamant that she wasn't his daughter. It all makes sense now.

"But…" Derek asks.

Richard looks at him and seems to crumple before them. His whole spine bends forward with defeat and his face sags. "I'm so sorry, Derek. I'm so sorry about everything. I should have never asked you to do that. It's just that…"

"It's just that what?" Derek asks. His voice is curious and calm, but underneath Meredith can tell that what he is asking is very important to him.

Richard finally looks up at him and says, "Derek, you are the son I never had."

Meredith can feel the surprise in Derek's frame, but he doesn't say anything. Richard continues with, "I came to Tortuga a long time ago to get away from a life that had become intolerable to me. The day that Addie had been born I knew she wasn't mine. I hadn't….my marriage hadn't been in a great place for a long while before that, if you know what I mean. I couldn't stand to look at her. I couldn't stand to look at either of them."

He looks at them both imploringly, but continues. "I came down here a long time ago to get away from it all." He says with a far-away look, but then turns to stare both of them in the eye when he says, "I wasn't a good person though. I was a British peer. I believed that this was a little po-dunk town on the edge of the British Empire. I was the Governor. Everyone had to listen to me. I was…I was Burke."

The harshness of that statement settles in the air for a moment. Neither Meredith nor Derek knows what to say to that.

"Don't you see why I couldn't have him become Governor? It wasn't until…it wasn't until the day that I found out that I had killed an innocent man that I realized what sort of man I had become."

Meredith is pretty sure that her jaw is on the floor, but she metaphorically picks it up to stare at Derek. If it was her, she is pretty sure that she would have bolted or hit someone by now, but he just sits there thinking.

"My father." Derek says simply.

"Your father." Richard answers as he finally faces the son of the man that he wrongfully executed.

"Is that why you…?" Derek starts to ask, but it is obvious to Richard what he is asking.

"Partly. I saw you playing on those rocks, alone. If I hadn't…." Richard begins but then his voice cracks into almost a sob. "If I hadn't killed your father, he would have been there with you, teaching you."

"So all these years have been about making up for…" Derek insists with some hurt but also some indignation at everything he had known being some kind of personal redemption.

"Not entirely. After your father…." Richard says with a gulp, but then continues, "I decided to put things to right. I did everything that I could for your family without making it obvious, I broke things off with your mother (he says to Meredith), and I tried to become a better man. But you surprised me, Derek."

"But she told my father that you were my dad. He killed himself." Meredith interjects. She feels sorry for this man, but he still did have a very large impact on her childhood and life there-after.

Richard's jaw drops. And he looks at her. "That was why….that was why Thatcher killed himself?" He asks after a couple of seconds of blank staring.

Even Derek looks at her. "You didn't tell me that." He says softly.

She turns to look at Derek and shrugs her shoulders. "I don't like to talk about it." She says while looking anywhere but at him.

But he takes her chin in his hand and makes her look at him. "I'm so sorry, Meredith." He says and places a cool kiss on her forehead. The kiss doesn't do anything to change the fact that her father is dead, but it helps. It helps a lot.

"I'm so sorry, Meredith. I had no idea." Richard says with a sense of loss that tells her the truly is sorry. But she doesn't know if it enough. But he continues.

"I am so sorry for everything. You see, Derek." He says with that of a defeated old man. "You've always been the better man. At 8 years old, I knew that you were the better man. I was going to send you away to school, but being around you made me a better person. You've always had a very fair sense of right and wrong and a natural ability with people. You made me want to be a better man. That's why I sent you to marry Addison. You deserved to be the next Governor."

Then Derek does something wholly unexpected: he smiles. "I guess you're going to have to find someone else then. Addison is married to Mark and has been for a very long time."

"Well, until I'm dead again, that is." Mark interjects as he comes bounding up the stairs. He looks very dashing in his all black attire and gold hawk earring, but instead of answering the twinkle in his smile, Richard turns very pale.

"But you…" Richard tries to get out.

"Thought I was dead, old man?" Mark says without a care in the world. "I went on this little journey with your…" but then he stops to scratch his head. "Well, at the time, we all thought Mer was your daughter. And we helped her trick your little protégée here into marrying her so that she could get back at you for tossing her ass out in the rain. But now we know she's really not your daughter." He muses with a little rub of h is chin. "But that doesn't matter now because they're disgustingly in love and prone to public displays of affection that make everyone sick, and…."

"That's enough Mark." Derek interjects with a laugh.

That little ramble has given Richard enough time to gather himself together though. To Meredith, he asks, "You…tricked Derek into marrying you?"

"Yep. Dosed him with laudanum." Alex says as he comes up the stairs carrying a plate full of pancakes.

He comes over to set the food on the table and ignores the strange look that Richard gives him.

Followed shortly behind is Izzie with a carafe of orange juice and a bunch of napkins thrown over one arm. "Yeah, and we showed up the next morning pretending to be her father's regiment."

"I got to be her father." Mark interjects again with a cackle.

"And I married them." George says as he comes up the stairs next with his hands full of plates.

"Peacock blue is your color." Izzie remarks as she pours herself a glass of orange juice.

Meredith can't help giggling at her friend's flagrant disregard for any serious conversations of any kind. The festive mood seems to put a different spin on the situation though. Richard still looks a bit bewildered at all these people and the things that they are saying, but Derek has gotten the hand of it.

"But that's not the real reason I married you." He says with a secretive little smile.

"What?" She says with happy glee as she grabs her own pancake and squirrels it away into her mouth. She gets awfully hungry lately.

Derek laughs at her ability to talk through a mouth full of food and comments joyfully, "So I could wake up to you in my bed every morning, of course."

"Well, that's what you're going to get!" Meredith remarks with a sweet kiss onto his mouth.

They share a happy look where time seems to stand still for a moment, but then the rest of the party won't let that stand for long.

"Come on, where's Christina? We need to get this show on the road." Alex remarks with his own mouth full of Izzie's famous buttermilk biscuits.

"I'm here. I'm here." She says as if she has been summoned. She comes bounding up the stairs with a bowl of whip cream and a looking glass in the other. "I want to be able to see his face when he shits his pants." She remarks without explaining.

And that's all the indication that Mark needs. He calls up to the mainmast that it's time and a pure black flag goes up on the flag ship.

"Are we really going to get to see the 24 gun salute?" George asks with excitement.

"Oh man, I wanted to blow some stuff up!" Alex remarks with chagrin.

"I'm doing a mix this time." Mark remarks to Alex.

"Wait. Isn't that Black Hawk's…" Richard starts to ask when suddenly takes notice of Mark's attire.

Mark's only answer is to smile.

"I'll explain later." Derek tells Richard with a smile.

But that's all anyone gets to say, because that's when the guns start to fire. They can't perfectly synchronize together, but they get pretty darn close. The black flag going up was the signal for each ship in the 24-ship half-circle to fire one lonely cannon into within a hares-breath of Burke's flagship. All 24 cannon balls go sailing high on their separate paths that all head in the same direction. For a second, it looks like all 24 are going to collide into one very doomed ship. They knew that Burke couldn't fire back because they had wet all of the gun powder on board before they had gone to rescue Derek and Richard. Revenge was very very sweet.

Christina watches in her spyglass as all 24 balls hang high in the air over the ship and then somehow miraculously shoot across and land in a circle of giant splashes scarily close to the ship. Mark had trained his ships well. Christina cracks up laughing and falls flat onto the table.

"Oh my God, I think he just fainted!" She says between huge gulping lung-full's of air.

"Let me see!" Alex says as he grabs for the spyglass.

Christina is laughing too hard to fight over the spyglass. Alex takes it and cracks up too. Burke's crew is helping him stand up after having very obviously fainting. The entire table takes turns trying to look. They aren't going to let Burke get away with something so easy as dying. There's a ship already on it's way that will be very grateful to take him away to the Orient with the understanding that he will be the VERY personal servant of an Emperor known to play for the other side of the field. Sexually, that is. It was only fitting for someone who had made a career out of kidnapping women get to be treated like one.

No one notices that two people don't seem to take as much joy in the festivities. They have no desire to witness the downfall of a man. They would much rather spend the morning making up for lost time. Two months, ten years, a life-time they have to make up. Make up for their own mistakes, make up for other's mistakes, and revel in the fact that it was all of these mistakes that brought them together.

**THE END**

**_Pirates work for comments. Thank you :-p_  
**


	24. Chapter 24

**Epilogue 1: One Year later**

Alex stands atop the top-most hill of his own private land smack dab on the top-most point of the island of Tortuga. His horse stands grazing not a couple yards away, munching away on some sweet grass that only grows up here. He can see the main house's roof-spire peeking out from down in the valley with tendrils of smoke coming out of the chimney. His house. His and Izzie's house. A house that had been built by the citizens of Tortuga through the generous donation of land and materials from the Governor. He owned a house. And land. Izzie was his wife. And he was about to be a father. He had to pinch himself some days. He didn't know if he was the luckiest man in the world or the stupidest.

All of them had received some kind of reward. George and Callie's land was down the hill and off to the left, Derek had been given the Governorship of Tortuga, and Meredith was made Captain and owner of Pirate's Bounty and the rest of the fleet. They even had a little daughter named Emma that Izzie visited every chance she got. She was probably over there right at this very moment. The only person not to have collected was Mark because he insisted that with everything that he had stolen from Richard over the years, they were probably just about even. And then him and Christina had left to go on their honeymoon and had never been heard from since. He wasn't worried about them though. Those were two people you just never needed to worry about. They'd turn up sooner or later.

Okay, here was the problem: he loved Izzie. And she had no idea. He knew she didn't love him. He knew she was still pining over her dead husband. He thought she had gotten over him when she hadn't had her dreams for the first couple of months of their marriage. Oh, those first couple of months had been grand. After Burke had been sent off on his Oriental excursion, life had seemed to settle down a bit. They stayed at the Governor's mansion while their house was built. They visited the land and the house during the day, and at night he had the excuse of the baby to be alone with Izzie, to touch Izzie, to just be with Izzie.

But then she had gotten pregnant. And the dreams started again. And he had no excuse to touch her again. In the beginning, she hadn't felt well, so he had just held her. When the dreams started happening again, he had thought it was just something related to the baby. She never said anything about them. And neither did he. Then one night it had gotten so bad that he had had to sleep on a chair in order to get any sleep. He had tried to talk to her about it, but she had brushed him off. If he woke her up, she'd just deny that anything was wrong, and roll over to go through it all again. The next night he moved to a cot and a couple nights later into a room next door. The excuse was that she had gotten so big and that she needed all the rest that she could get, but they both knew the reason. They just didn't talk about it.

So here he was, at the top of his land wondering just how he had gotten to where he was: in love with someone who was having his baby but didn't love him back. It's quiet up here. He can think about things. He has everything he ever wanted – a house, some land, a beautiful wife, and a baby on the way – and he is miserable. Beyond their house and off in the distance is the main town of Tortuga resting against the sea and he can see the Governor's mansion with all its shiny glass windows. Meredith had found happiness. The one person who had seemed the most dark and twisty of them all was now a laughing sprite that lit up whenever Derek or little Emma was around. All three seemed to be attached at the hip, so she pretty much lit up all of the time now. How did she do it? Alex would really like to know.

But just as he's contemplating all of this, a churning cloud of dust rises from the house, and as he watches, comes barreling up the hill. As it gets closer, he can make out a horsemen. And closer still, that it is George. What does? Oh man. Alex is on his horse and heading down the hill before he even realizes it.

He slows down a mite as he passes George to ask, "It's Izzie, isn't it?"

George can hardly breathe from riding so fast and furious to get to Alex, so all he does is shake his head up and down furiously.

"She's at the Mansion?" He asks while twirling his horse around in inpatient circles.

"The baby." George finally gets out.

"But it's not time. She's got another month, at least." Alex says to George, but is really just expressing his worry out loud.

"I know." Is all George can say, and Alex can see the deep worry on his friend's face that must be amplified on his by a thousand times.

Oh my God. Without saying a word, he turns the horse around and takes off. George understands. He'll probably be along in a little while, once his horse has calmed down. But right now, Alex doesn't care about that. His wife is about to have his baby. He has to tell her that he loves her. He just has to.

_The Governor's Mansion..._

Izzie lies all wrapped up in bedcovers with one of Meredith's maternity nightgowns on. Her hair is tied into two braids that lie heavy and long upon her shoulders and on down to the little bundle of joy she has wrapped in her arms. He is tiny, but he is well. All of the excitement of the birth must have tired him out though because he lies asleep in Izzie's arms with his face smooshed up against the end of her braid. Izzie looks tired but angelic in the canopied bed in her borrowed white nightgown and hastily bogarted white guest room.

"Isn't he beautiful, Meredith?" Izzie asks in a low but tired voice.

"Yes, he is, Izzie." Meredith answers in just as quiet a voice as she pulls the covers up over Izzie and rests back in the chair she has pulled up to the bed. "But he about gave me a heart attack."

Izzie snorts but quiets when she see's him jar from the noise. "About gave you a heart attack? What about me? I didn't plan on having a baby today, that's for sure."

"You could have fooled me." Meredith answers with her own little grin. They both can't take their eyes off of the newest addition to their family though. Because that's what they consider themselves to be: family. "Emma took me like an entire day. You got off with a couple of hours! I think I might be a little jealous."

"Hey, you got to have Derek holding your hand the entire time too, so don't go complaining to me!" Izzie rejoins, but then looks a little sad. It had all happened so fast. One minute she had been sitting and having tea with Meredith in the parlor and the next her water had broken. The doctor had come (Luckily he was only down the street and on call for Emma) and in no time at all the new little man had come into the world.

Meredith must read her mind though, because Meredith says, "Alex should be here any minute. George left as soon as we knew you were going into labor."

Izzie lets the words soak in, but they don't make her happy. She looks down at their son, whom she's pretty sure already has Alex's scowl, and kind of wishes he wasn't there. She immediately recoils at the thought, but it is true. Her and Alex's agreement was over. She had wanted a baby and she had got it. As soon as she had known that she was pregnant, they had stopped sleeping together. She didn't know how it had happened, but somehow he had ended up in the chair, and then a cot, and then in another room entirely. She guessed just sleeping with her when there wasn't sex was just a little too much to ask.

"He doesn't love me." Izzie softly reveals to Meredith. She doesn't know why she says it, and why right then, but suddenly it is paramount to tell someone.

"Who doesn't…?" Meredith asks in confusion, but then the pieces come together and she asks, "Alex? Of course he does! Haven't you ever seen the way he….?"

But Izzie cuts him off. "He only agreed to marry me because I asked him to. I wanted a baby, and he would only do it if I married him."

Meredith's mouth only gets half-open to reply though when the object of their conversation interjects, "That's not true."

He must have come upon them so quietly, or they had been too deep in conversation, to hear him come down the hall. Izzie looks up at his dust and sweat-smeared face and wants to smile and cry at the same time. He looks so out of sorts and beautiful and out of breathe all at the same time. She just wants to jump up and tell him that everything is okay, but she has her dignity too.

"What do you mean it's not true? You.." She starts.

But he interrupts with, "It was an excuse."

Izzie is stunned.

"It was an excuse to get you to marry me." He repeats.

Meredith very wisely tip-toes out of the room and neither of them even notice. They are too caught up in each other.

"Why would you need an excuse..to…?" Izzie tries to asks, but is unable to get the words out.

"Izzie, I have to ask you something. Well, no, I have to tell you something first, and then I'll ask you something, okay?" Alex says a little schizophrenically as he comes over to the side of the bed and kneels down in front of it. He takes a small look at the baby, but she can see his Adam's apple get stuck in his throat, and he returns his attention to her.

"Okay." She answers with great gobfulls of apprehension, but a little bit of hope. Just a little bit.

"Well, what I have to tell you is that….well, it's just…god damn it, Izzie, I love you!" He admits irritatingly.

He looks so upset about it too, like he's been holding it in for a while. She doesn't know what to say so he continues with, "I think I've loved you since the first time I saw you. You were like a defeated angel with your golden halo. So beautiful but so sad."

He takes one of her braids in his hand and she looks down in wonder at his hand on her hair and the words spurting out of his mouth. He rubs the braid in between his fingers, but then drops it to say, "It took me a long time to figure that out. A REALLY long time. And I know you don't love me, but…"

Wait a minute. "Wait, wait, what are you talking about?" She asks.

He says again, cavalierly, "I know you don't love me, but…"

"Wait, wait, hold on a minute here. What are you talking about? What do you mean I don't love you?" Izzie asks, grabbing onto the one thing that doesn't make sense. He just told her that he loved her! "Of course I love you! You're the one that doesn't love me!"

Alex stares at her in a daze, like she's just grown a third eye or something. They both stare at each other in total surprise and disbelievement. Alex looks from her, to the baby, and then back at her. His hands just kind of move around like they don't know what to do. He lays them flat out on the bed, and holds his breath, when he asks, "But what about the dreams? What about…"

"Denny." She finishes, but then takes his hand with her one free one. "Alex, Denny happened to me a long time ago. I loved him, but…that was a long time ago."

"But…but…what about the dreams? For months now, you've been having these dreams where you cry out…and…." He asks agitatingly.

And a light bulb goes off in her head. She takes firm hold of his hands and says, while staring him straight in the eye, "I was afraid, Alex. I am afraid. I had a husband, and a baby on the way, and everything I could have ever wanted." She starts to tear up and her voice gets shaky when she says, "And now I have it all again, and I'm afraid! I love you way more than I ever loved Denny. I met him when I was a girl. A young girl. And then one day it all got ripped away from me. In one day! Do you know what that's like? Do you? Do you have any idea what it was like to lose a husband and a baby all in one day? And I tried to not love you. I really did. Because if I didn't love somebody again, then I wouldn't lose them! But then I missed my little girl. I wanted a baby, so I tried to find someone I knew I could never love. But you had to mess that up too! You couldn't just leave it alone! I hate you Alex, I hate you!"

But he knows that's not true. "Shh, shh." Alex says as his own tears start to make their way down his own face. He ignores them though to crawl onto the other side of the bed and take Izzie in his arms. "No, I don't know. I don't think I could ever know. All I know is that if I ever lost you or….or our little…."

"Son."

"Son, I don't know what I'd do. I thought you were in love with Denny. I never thought you could love me. That's why I left that first morning, you know."

"That's why?" Izzie asks with dawning understanding. "I thought you were ashamed. I thought you had just gotten drunk and regretted it."

Alex heart about breaks in two when he hears that admission. "Izzie, I could never regret being with you. I never regretted it. Not once."

Izzie can't help the tears that make their way down her cheeks. But then she looks down at the little guy in her arms and see's him looking at her. Staring straight up into her face with a face that says, "Why are you crying?" And she has no idea. It all seems kind of stupid. Here they are in a room together, they have a baby and a home together, and she's crying about it.

"Will you introduce me?" Alex asks with such a tender amount of hesitation that she's pretty sure her heart just melted all over again.

She moves the baby forward a bit so that Alex can get a better look at him and says, "Well, I haven't exactly had time to name him yet. He was pretty impatient to come into this world."

She falls in love with Alex all over again when he says, "What about Denny? I think we should call him Denny."


	25. Chapter 25

_The sun of the seven seas shines down on a lone ship. Its sails glisten like ivory against a turquoise sea, inlaid into a ship of ebony. It is made of wood, just like any other ship, but its planks have been painted black in deference to its profession. Oh, you say a ship can't have a personality? Then you're not seeing the way this one sails through the waves; pushing through the water with menacing purpose. All the sails have been let to allow for optimum speed, and a full crew scrambles like ants to keep her sailing true and straight._

_Or maybe it is the lone figure at the wheel that gives it its drive and direction. He stands at the helm, legs splayed apart in deference to the unsteady nature of the meeting of wood and wave. He himself looks rooted to the spot, his two hands gripping the wheel at two and ten o'clock. Fitted boots and tight buckskin trousers meld to his ramrod straight body. The only softness in his stance, the whipping of his white lawn shirt and curly dark locks in the wind. His coat lays tossed aside on the nearest crate, as his gaze stays focused on the quarry ahead. His potent blue eyes focused and hard._

_The tiniest etchings of a ship can be seen off in the distance, separated from the sea by only a few marks of the horizon. Derek doesn't have to see the shape of the sails or the tilt of the bow to know what ship it is, or even whose captaining it. He knows exactly who it is. He's been searching for just this ship, just this opportunity for five long years. For it wasn't just any ship. It was his ship. And the captain was his wife._

* * *

**Epilogue 2**

Derek climbs up the rope ladder of the other ship, his knife in his mouth and his pistols at the ready in their holsters. He doesn't think he'll need them, but you never know. It has been many years since he's been on this boat and a little less time than that since he's seen the current owner. Or he should say 'temporary' owner because it had pretty much been stolen right out from under him. He's been searching for it for a long time, but never really thought to see it again. After four and a half years he figured they were never coming back or had been lost at sea somewhere.

He jumps up over the edge of the ship to find that no one greets him. It is empty. It's still pretty early in the morning, but he expected there to be someone about. Not so. It is pretty eerie considering that it was five years to the day that he had found himself in this similar predicament. This time though the rest of the crew was anchored a little ways away and he had rowed over. He wanted the element of surprise for this meeting.

He takes the knife out of his mouth and puts it back in his boot. He likes pistols better. He holds one pistol out in one hand and crouches over to a very familiar cabin. Walking on this ship brings back many memories. A mystery woman in a golden dress with green eyes that had seared into his soul. Being woken up by her supposed 'father' that had turned out to be one of her Merry Crew and a whole lot more than even she knew about. His eyes shine as he remembers the exchanging of vows on this very deck, her in her virginal white night dress, and the fun he'd had taken it off of her afterwards.

Memories blur together as he inches the cabin door open. It is completely dark. No one confronts him. Hmmm…that's interesting. Just where is everyone? The room is definitely not the same one that he left. The staid English furniture has been replaced by a merging of many pieces from many different lands. The divan has been replaced by an arrangement of very large Indian-inspired pillows splayed around the fireplace. The reds and golds and oranges are complemented by a wooden screen set up to separate it from the dining area. But he can see that it is not the same table over there either. Instead, it is a small table, low to the ground, decorated with Oriental dragons. Hmm. His desk is still there though, and his liquor cabinet. He guesses that some things never change.

He silently creeps over the space as his eyes adjust to the darkness and presses his ear to the door to the inner cabin. Snoring? He snorts quietly. He should have known. He turns the door handle painstakingly slow and inches the door open with hardly a sound. He can barely make out a lone figure sleeping peacefully under a mound of blankets and furs. Those certainly aren't HIS sheets. Is that a silk Kimono on the night stand?

Without a sound, he approaches the side of the bed, withdraws his knife from his boot, slams it into the night stand, and shouts, "Mark! Just where the hell have you been?!"

Mark, bewildered and surprised, shoots up in bed. "Who? What? Where?" Mark says half asleep, sees who it is and rolls back over to go back to sleep while saying, "Oh, it's just you Shep. I'm trying to sleep here. What do you want?"

"What do I want?" He asks incredulously.

But as he talks, a woman comes through the door with two small children in tow. Two little girls in fact, that can't be more than two and three, respectively. The woman has on a simple styled gown in a light champagne color with her golden sun-kissed hair out and free around her shoulders. The little girl she holds hands with and walks beside her is her spitting image with long wavy blonde hair and cat-like green eyes. But the younger in her arms is just as downy but with the stunning blue eyes of her father.

"He wants to make his wife happy." She says good-naturedly as she deposits both girls on the bed and sits up next to them. "By getting her ship back."

Both girls immediately crawl over to look at the fascinating man in his bed-clothes with an oriental style braided goatee and an EARRING!

The oldest asks serenely, like she does this every day, "What are you doing in my mommy's bed?"

Mark looks over the little sprite and can't help the large grin that makes its way over his features. "And just who might your mommy be?" He asks teasingly.

The little girl's eyes widen at being addressed so, but Derek answers instead. "That's Emma." He says with a laugh. "The quiet one is Mina, short for Wilhemina. And you would know that if you had stuck around for even a little while and hadn't absconded with Meredith's ship."

He ignores Derek's last remark to introduce himself to the two lovely ladies in front of him. "It is nice to meet you two lovely ladies. Charmed." He says as he takes both of their hands in his and places a kiss atop each. They both giggle. Then he turns to Derek and says, "I was on my honeymoon. I just got back into town."

"A four year honeymoon?" Derek asks with disbelief.

"Well, it started out simply enough. We went down to the Americas for a little R&R. Then we decided it might be fun to try and find Christina's father." Mark explains with a yawn.

"You went to China?" Mer asks with disbelief.

"Yeah, but no luck there. We figured we were already on the other side of the world, so we came back the other way through India and the Mediterranean. But then Christina said she kind of missed you, Mer, so here we are!"

"Speaking of: Just where is Christina?" Meredith asks as her two girls come back to her and set up station against her.

"Oh, she left me." Mark says with faux lament and places a hand over his eyes.

"What'd you do now?" Derek asks with nary amount of sympathy.

Mark sighs and puts his hand down. "Apparently, I stared a little too long at a woman who had very daringly displayed her breasts in a fashion that I was compelled to look at, if just to see if they would fall out in the act of her walking anywhere."

"I bet she didn't believe that likely story either." Derek remarks in an amused voice.

"Nope." Mark says as he sits up. "Actually, she's probably on her way to visit you with our brood."

"You have kids?" Meredith asks with disbelief. She had never imagined Christina with children.

"Oh, like a dozen or so." He says with a wave of his hand, not even bothering to respond to the other two adults in the room's jaws dropping. "We just kept picking them up here or there."

Now that makes a little more sense to Derek. "So how many are actually yours?" He asks.

"Oh, just little Lo and Mimi." Mark answers like it is nothing at all to him. Then he turns to Emma with a little pat of her nose and says, "Actually, Lo is probably just about your age, pumpkin."

"Lo?" Emma answers with disbelief. She's never heard of such a thing!

Mark finally throws the sheet off of himself, stands up, and puts his slippers on. The little girls watch him in fascination as he is wearing something that they have never seen: black silk oriental pajamas with red dragons embroidered on the front. "It's short for Lotus. I've got a picture, want to see?" He asks the two little girls with a permissive look at Meredith.

She acquiesces with a smiling head-nod, so that when both girls copy her in the affirmative, he picks them both up in his arms and carries them out of the room. On the way out, both Meredith and Derek hear Emma ask him, "Do mommy and daddy want alone time?"

They both have to hold in their laughter as they hear Mark's fading voice ask, "Do they do that a lot?"

Derek can just imagine his little sprites heads both nodding up and down in the affirmative. But as soon as the door is closed, he turns to the main sprite in his life and lunges at her. Her body falls back on the bed as his covers hers in all the right places.

"You do realize that this bed is where it all began?" He asks with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

"What began?" She asks coyly.

"The day I fell in love with you. Exactly five years ago today." He answers with shining eyes and a silky voice.

"Well, that'd be a problem then, because I didn't fall in love with you until the next day when you married me just because I asked you to." Meredith answers with a hint of teasing laughter in her voice.

"You didn't fall in love with me when I put a gun to your head?" He says as he pushes his body into hers and gives her a warm and enveloping kiss on the mouth. "Or my powers of dinner conversation?"

"Nope. It was after I'd put a gun to your head, drugged you, and tricked you, and you still had a light in your eyes every time you looked at me." She says with utmost honesty.

He answers back just as honestly, "But that's what MADE me fall in love with you!"

They both laugh and continue on with their celebration.

** FINI FINI**

* * *

**I hope you have enjoyed your trip into this little corner of my mind. I certainly have! I can't believe I have reached the end of this story. It seems like yesterday that Derek was a duped hero and Mer a lonely woman bent on revenge. And somewhere along the way, all of these other side stories developed: Mark and Christina, Alex and Izzie, and even a tiny portion of George and Callie. I think I started this story back in June and it is now almost 200 pages in word. If you have enjoyed it, please leave a comment for your comment-hungry author. Thank you!**


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